Bring Me To Life
by scottishvalkyrie
Summary: Three little words bring Faye to the biggest decision of her life. This fits somewhere within the 18 With a Bullet universe. COMPLETE!
1. Act of Contrition

**Act of Contrition**

_-------------------------------------------------_

_Oh, God._

Faye ran across the length of the building, along the verandah. Her gun was out, pointed down. But the way her luck was going, she would probably shoot herself in the foot before the day was out. And the rain, which had been steadily falling for several hours, wasn't helping her mood.

The day previously, Jet had called her. _A three-person job,_ he'd said. _We need you._

_We need you._

Three little words, words that regardless of any consequence, would always drive Faye to complying with the request. It was a group bounty, and the odds were better if they could go 3-on-3. Faye had come within a hair of snapping that Ed was old enough to join in, but then she remembered whom she was talking to. In Jet's opinion, it was bad enough that Ed would be running intell while the three of them were dodging bullets.

The chase had led them to an empty mansion, the one that looked like a castle, or a wedding cake, on top of a hill surrounded by trees. It had been abandoned for years, and had the distinction of being a hide-out for only the best of criminals. Faye hated getting stuck in places like these: there were too many coves and hidey-holes for the jerks to hide in, and it was always too dark for her to see. Fortunately, Ed had developed some newer goggles that helped that situation, but not by much. And it galled Faye that Spike could apparently see in the dark.

_For a guy who hates cats, Spike certainly seems to be reincarnated from one._

Faye leaned against a wall next to a French door that no longer had any glass in its panes. A thin counterpane, stained and torn, billowed through the empty mullions. She tried to quiet her heaving breaths so she could listen. Footsteps. She closed her eyes and listened to the pattern of the footfalls. They didn't sound like Spike, and she knew for a fact that Jet was on the uppermost floor, three stories above her. The footsteps came closer to the French doors. Faye held her breath. Perhaps this was the yahoo she was hunting down. The door creaked open, and Faye held her gun to the man's head, saying, "Freeze."

Despite all the TV watching that Faye had done in her childhood and since, the perps never followed orders in real life as they did in the cop shows. The guy simply grabbed the gun and wrenched it from her grasp, punching her in the gut at the same time. Her Glock clattered on the floorboards, and the guy took off running down the verandah. Faye cursed a blue streak, grabbed her gun, and ran after the guy. She had a random thought about how much pain that hit caused her. But Faye was too pissed to worry so much about that.

The bounty leapt over a missing part of the floor. Faye wasn't quite expecting it, and when she jumped, she landed awkwardly and fell onto her hip. The bounty decided to take advantage of this and doubled back in her direction. This time, she was more ready for him, and she took a couple of shots at his legs. One grazed his thigh, but it didn't stop him. Faye was suddenly pulled up from the verandah floor and punched in the jaw.

_Damnit, don't these assholes know not to hit a lady?_

She regained her balance only to be knocked back over by the guy, running into her like some sort of linebacker. This time, her feet slid on the old wet wood of the floor, and she went ass over teakettle.

Right over the railing.

_Oh sweet Jesus_, she thought wildly as she grabbed onto a pipe connected to the railing. It was a steel pipe, rusted, and it immediately began to creak under her weight.

_Oh My God –_

Her Glock fell into the mud two stories below her.

_. . .I am heartily sorry – _

The guy came closer, laughing at Faye in her current predicament.

_. . .for having offended thee --_

He began to peel the fingers of one hand off the pipe.

_. . .and I detest all my sins –_

Then he found another piece of debris and cracked it across her knuckles. Faye screamed, and one of her hands came off the pipe.

_. . .because of thy just punishments –_

"_Faye!_" Jet's voice rang out through the rain.

_. . .but most of all, because they offend thee, oh God –_

A gunshot.

_. . .who are all good and deserving of all of my love –_

The bounty's body jerked forward, and a spray of blood came from his lips.

_. . .I firmly resolve –_

The blood mixed with the rain on the pipe, and made it even more slick.

_. . .with the help of thy grace –_

The bounty's body fell into a heap. Faye wildly grabbed at the pipe with her other hand.

_. . .to sin no more –_

Faye managed to grab on to the pipe. Spike, shouting her name, was running toward her along the verandah.

_. . .and to avoid the near occasions of sin –_

The pipe gave way.

._ . .amen._

Faye fell twenty feet to the muddy ground below.

-----------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction. I do not own any part of the CB characters nor the universe in which they live._

_Thank you to all my regular readers, and I appreciate all reviews. Also feel free to PM me. I want to continue to write stories that you enjoy._


	2. Transubtantiation

**Transubstantiation**

-------------------------------------------

Faye briefly woke up. She felt as if she were in motion, although she was lying flat on her back. Her focus cleared to see what appeared to be a large-busted woman leaning over her. Her first thought was that she was getting a shampoo in a salon, as the white-clad chest filled her entire line of vision. Then a white-hot pain shot up through her legs, and everything went grey. Faye was dimly aware of Jet's deep, gravelly voice saying her name, and the squeeze of a strong hand on hers. She drifted out again.

There was a lot of clatter, and many voices filled the air. Faye felt the sting of a needle in her arm. Someone new, a woman, was calling her name. A bright light was being shone into her eyes. Faye's vision came back into focus once again, and she saw a pretty brunette looking into her eyes. The brunette smiled and said, "Hello, Ms. Valentine. I'm glad to see you awake. Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Faye croaked.

"You had a nasty fall. We'll have to do quite a bit of tests, though, and some of them might be painful."

"Yippee."

"We'll start with x-rays, but I need to know if there's a possibility that you could be pregnant."

"Ha. No." The brunette typed something into her e-chart, and then turned to talk to another technician in the room. A thought flashed through Faye's mind, and her eyes grew wide. She reached out weakly with one hand, groaning, "Wait."

-------

The Bebop was silent. Ed wasn't running around, bouncing a volleyball off every surface. Spike wasn't on the couch, watching endless episodes of Big Shot. There were no loud arguments or the trading of insults back and forth. Everything was tranquil. And it made Faye antsy.

In her mind, the best thing for antsy was drinking. But she was broke, currently in between poker announcing gigs. The season had been a bit off, and she couldn't even catch a stint being arm candy for a tourney or as a booth babe at a convention on Venus. She did take this opportunity to get caught up in domestic chores, like her laundry, but she needed a break from such nonsense. She wondered where the latest stash of good liquor could be on the ship, and then she remembered a stash of her own. Kneeling on the floor, Faye reached under her bed and pulled out a cardboard box. From inside came the unmistakable noise of bottles clinking together.

Inside was a small collection of some decent wine. Not great, but decent. Faye had been trying a new image as a snooty wine-o-phile, and as a result, had gotten some swag from wine distributors. Wine was okay, she supposed, but it wasn't scotch. Next time, she'd try to get a distributor of single-malt to chip in some of their smoky wares. She pulled out a bottle of shiraz and went looking for some drinking company.

Jet, meanwhile, had been taking advantage of the ship's silence, and was deeply engrossed with his _bonsais_. He hardly noticed when Faye came silently into the room, sitting down nearby. What brought him out of his reverie was the _pop_ of the cork being pulled from the bottle. He jumped slightly to see Faye sitting with a bottle in her hand.

"Care to join me?" Faye said with a grin.

Jet's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"Chateau de Nouveau de Wagga Wagga," Faye read from the bottle's label. She laughed at Jet's expression. "It's supposed to be good shiraz. Australian heirloom grapes."

"Oh. Wine."

"Yes, _wine_, you infidel." Faye poured two glasses, and handed one to Jet.

"This is a water glass," remarked Jet, looking at the dark purple-red wine within.

Faye scoffed. "Well, the Bebop doesn't have a collection of stemware, and furthermore, this is how the Italians drink their wine."

"When in Rome, eh?" Both of them laughed. "_Prosit_," said Jet, and they clicked their glasses together, and drank. "That's not bad."

"Not at all. Those folks from Oz know their grapes," remarked Faye. Jet smiled at her, and then turned his attention back to an errant twig. He clipped it, and then took another sip of the wine. Faye tucked a leg under herself. "Tell me about your bonsai, Jet."

"Well, the bonsai is not the plant itself. _Bonsai_ refers to the method of how to make the plant grow."

"So it's not a dwarf plant?"

"Proper ones aren't. A good bonsai artist can create a bonsai out of all kinds of plants. Once I worked a miniature rose bush into a bonsai. It was quite beautiful."

Faye topped off her glass. "Sounds like kind of a cruel thing to do a plant."

"Really, it's not any more cruel that what other horticulturists do." Jet handed back his glass, and Faye refilled it. "The hard part about doing this on the ship is that I can't really replicate outdoor conditions."

"Perhaps someday you'll be in one place long enough to have your own garden," mused Faye, holding out the refilled glass to Jet.

"Perhaps." Jet took the proffered glass, and their fingertips touched briefly. "You must be bored out of your skull, to come in here and talk to me." Faye laughed. "Five years ago, I would have thought that you had an ulterior motive."

Faye raised her eyebrows. "It's been five years? Wow. I feel like I still don't know you guys at all."

Jet chuckled. "And Spike and I have known each other for almost nine. But the only way I've really noticed the passage of time is watching Ed grow up. When I was on the force, my buddies would talk about how time flew when kids were involved. I didn't really believe them then."

Faye was quiet for a while. "So Ed's out with Spike?"

"Yeah." Jet stole a glance at Faye. She was swirling the dark wine in her glass. "Does that bother you?"

Faye's eyes flashed to Jet's. "No. Maybe. Perhaps. I don't know."

Jet laughed. "Way to be definitive."

Faye laughed along with Jet. "It's just . . . you sometimes have this idea of what your life's going to be, and then . . . it isn't. Boy, my life isn't."

"You and Spike were never going to work, you know."

Faye wrinkled her nose. "But _Ed_?"

"I don't understand it either. Let's have more of that wine." Faye moved her chair closer to Jet, and obliged his request. "Five years ago, I never would have put Spike _anywhere_, with _anyone_, except perhaps in a grave. But he's good to Ed, and she's good _for_ him. And frankly, I think he's scared of her."

"Spike would never be scared of a woman."

"He's terrified of you."

"You're so full of shit, Black, that your eyes are brown." Faye tipped the last of the bottle into her glass. "Oh, oh, general, we have a dead soldier."

Jet took her glass, and poured off wine from his until the levels of wine were even. "Here, let's do this like a Lebanese New Year." He stood, and grabbed Faye's hand and pulled her into a standing position.

"It's nowhere _near_ New Year's." But she giggled.

"For someone, somewhere, it's New Year's." He clicked his glass again to hers. "To Faye Valentine and Jet Black. Cheers and all that good shit." Faye laughed even harder, and Jet joined her. "Now drink up." Both of them drained their glasses, then clicked their glasses one more time, and threw them against the wall. Both glasses exploded into hundreds of pieces, and both Jet and Faye cheered.

The laughter began to die off, and both Faye and Jet looked at each other, lopsided grins on their faces. The smile began to melt away from Jet's face as he brought up his hand and caressed her cheek. Faye took a quick breath, and then tilted her head into his palm. Then they each took a step forward and ended in each other's arms.

First kiss, and their lips made light touches against the other's, hardly moving, too afraid to breathe.

Second kiss, and their tongues made shy forays into each other's mouths.

Third kiss, and Jet pulled Faye even tighter into his arms, lifting her off the ground, curving her against his body. She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck, and she lifted both of her feet behind her. The kiss ended, and Faye giggled. "You sneaky devil. You made me curl my toes."

Jet looked over her shoulder at Faye's bare feet. "So I did." Then he began to carry her out of the room.

Faye, keeping the smile on her face, murmured, "Where are you taking me?"

Jet shrugged. "Away from the broken glass. I don't want you to hurt your feet."

"So gallant." Faye shifted her legs so that they were wrapped around Jet's waist.

"Not _that _gallant, not with where those legs are that I don't like it."

Faye tilted her head, and then laughed, "You're drunker than you think. That didn't make one damn bit of sense."

"I'm not _that_ drunk, either." Jet kissed Faye again, bringing one arm down to support her under her buttocks.

"I know what you're up too, Jet Black."

"Do you, now, Faye Valentine."

"Yes, and it's not going to work."

"Really? I remember one time, we were exceptional in bed together."

"That was grief sex."

"That's what made it so good." Jet clamped his teeth on her exposed shoulder, and then continued carrying her towards his room.

"Aren't you concerned that you might be the second choice?" Faye nuzzled into Jet's throat.

"I'd rather be your second choice than take sloppy seconds any day." Jet kicked open his bedroom door.

"Jet, seriously." Faye pulled back to look at Jet. Her brow furrowed. "Is this really a good idea?"

"Faye, seriously." Jet grinned back at her. "What's the worst that could happen?" And he shut the door behind them.

_-------_

_What's the worst that could happen, indeed?_

Faye lay quietly on the gurney, waiting. Waiting for the morphine to take a better hold. Waiting for the nurse to come back. Waiting to see how much her life would change in the next 30 seconds or so.

At the moment, she concentrated on breathing in and out, as she let everything else spin out of control around her.

The doctor finally returned. Faye opened her eyes and gazed at the corona of beautiful brunette hair. There was an imperceptible smile on the woman's face. _A Mona Lisa smile._

The doctor quietly uttered three little words to Faye. The first word was _Faye_. The second word, equally as innocuous as the first, was _you're._

The third word, upon reflection, was not so little at all. In fact, it was gargantuan with the number of letters contained therein (eight in all) and with what that word implied for Faye's future from there on out.

The doctor continued talking, about the potential but very small risks of the needed testing but how they would do everything to protect both her and the . . .

Faye interrupted. "Is there any way I could talk to a priest?"

------------------------------------------------------------

_Wagga Wagga is in Southern New South Wales, Australia. Australia does in fact produce quite a few lovely wines. However, as I suspect that in the CB universe, Australia doesn't exactly exist anymore, hence the use of "heirloom grapes."_

_Thank you for reading, and for all your reviews!_


	3. Reconciliation

**Reconciliation**

---------------------------------------------------

Spike was watching Jet pace. They had been here for only a couple of hours, and by Spike's estimation, the entire uninsured population of Mars had wandered in the doors of the emergency room this evening. Every chair was filled with the sneezing, hawking, bleeding, snoring, and otherwise ill or injured masses. Ed was sitting on the floor at Spike's feet, typing loudly on her Tomato, in between glances up to look at Jet. So far Ed had been accosted by about a dozen children to see what she was doing, and whether they could play too. After being coughed or sneezed on for the third time, Ed had managed to score a mask and a pair of gloves. Ed leaned back on Spike's legs and looked up at him.

"Papa's losing it."

"I know."

"Can't you do anything?"

Spike knew what she meant. Unfortunately, he had come unprepared; that is, he didn't bring an extra deck of smokes, nor one of his ubiquitous and random flasks. "What can I say, Ed, I'm slacking today." Ed harrumphed back at him. "Can't _you_ do anything?"

"She's at the top of the queue already; I can't bump her any more forward."

"What does her chart say?"

"That she's been through about four batteries of tests."

"Anything definitive?"

"She's pretty well banged up, but it's not as bad as it could be. Oh, and . . .oh."

"What?"

Ed stared at the screen for a moment. Then she clicked off the window and said, "Nothing." _Oh, Faye. Faye-faye, oh, please don't say it's . . ._ Ed slammed the computer closed and stood up. "I need to talk a walk. I'm getting all stiff." She rummaged briefly in her rucksack, and handed Spike a deck of cards. "Here, you slacker. At least I know how to be prepared."

Spike watched her as Ed roughly shoved her computer into her rucksack and then wandered off. He frowned at her retreating figure. He guessed that Ed saw something in the chart that bothered her, but by the same token, she wasn't going to talk about it. Somewhere along the way, Ed had become the ultimate secret-keeper. This amused and annoyed both him and Jet, as Ed generally had excessively good information.

_How the girl grew up to have a conscience while living with us, I'll never know_, Spike mused, as he noticed that two chairs and a small table had been vacated. He moved over quickly and began shuffling the cards. "Jet." Jet didn't respond. "Sit, Jet, and cut the cards."

Jet closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and sat opposite Spike. He cut the cards, and Spike dealt a hand of gin. They played in silence, only uttering the occasional _knock_, and _gin_, peppered with _sack of shit_ and _asshole_.

Ed went outside into the cool damp air. The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle, and she moved out from the overhang to feel the mist on her face. She wondered about Faye, and what her plans might be.

Ed looked at the moon, clouded over, and prayed the prayer of the godless: _Please, please, let everything turn out okay._

Faye had spent the last couple of hours praying the same prayer, except with quite a few more expletives. She'd been jostled, moved, lifted, turned, prodded, and poked to the degree that she wished that she could just walk out under her own power, but that was currently impossible, even with the amount of painkillers she had in her system. And the doctor didn't want to load her up with the really good stuff, _because_.

_Fuckola_.

The doctors had been telling her that she was lucky, indeed. Her injuries did not require surgery. The final tally was, on the right leg: broken ankle, broken tibia, dislocated knee. Left leg: sprained ankle, dislocated knee. Broken tailbone. Sprained lumbar. One bad case of whiplash. And as a bonus, four broken fingers on her left hand, thanks to the bounty cracking her a good one across the knuckles like a crazed nun. The same ones she broke when she missed Spike's smug face and hit a wall instead. She was so fortunate, Faye was, for landing in very soft mud rather than the concrete walkway that was about six inches away.

_Fortunate. Ha. _

So now, Faye was lying prone in a hospital bed, in a private room. At least the room looked restful, not like the hospital rooms she was used to. The room was dim and had pretty wallpaper, and what looked like a very comfortable recliner. She also had her own bathroom. And it was so quiet.

The nurses had done their routine checks. Once again, Faye was waiting.

Faye figured she'd be doing a lot of waiting in her near future. For the next 34 weeks or so. She'd passed through the first 40 days of this process rather obliviously and she was already wistful for those days. 40 days had passed since a little evening that involved a little bottle of shiraz and little trees. Faye's mind continued to wander, and she was struck with memories of her school days, of the nuns teaching her all about different episodes where in the number "40" figured: 40 days on the ark, 40 days in the desert, 40 days of Lent. . .

_These forty days of Lent, oh Lord, with You we fast and pray_

_Teach us to discipline our wills, and follow, Lord, Your way . . . _

Faye made a scoffing noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her mind was doing terrible things to her, bringing up so much from her religious upbringing that she had abandoned so long ago, so much . . . _rhetoric _. . .that she had assumed that she had forgotten forever.

What in the world was happening to her?

There was a knock on the door. "Ms. Valentine?"

Faye dashed a tear away. "Yes, come in."

The door opened slightly, and someone came in, but Faye was unable to turn her head. He came closer to the bed. Faye looked up to see a very short man with spiky hair and a young face. He was wearing the collar of a Catholic priest. "Hello. I'm Fred."

"Are you really a priest?"

"Yes, I am." And he smiled the sweetest smile at her.

Faye burst into tears. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_These 40 Days of Lent – traditional hymn_

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	4. Intercession

**Intercession**

---------------------------------------------------

For the first time in her new life, Faye utterly and completely told her entire story. There were no embellishments or censors, but only a rushed stream of consciousness, told hurriedly, leaving her no option to change her mind once she began.

Faye finally ended with, "And now I'm here."

Fred, the young priest, sat quietly and attentively through Faye's lengthy monologue. He neither interrupted nor interjected; he merely listened, all the while maintaining eye contact with her, even when she was unable to look at him. Finally, he blinked, took a breath, and said, "That's quite a story, Faye." He reached onto her bedside table, grabbed some tissues, and placed them in her uninjured hand. "I like to say that there's nothing I haven't heard before, but I gotta tell you, that's some new stuff to me." Faye laughed wanly and blew her nose. Fred continued, "Do you have any idea how damned lucky you are to even be _alive_?"

"It's hard to remember sometimes." Faye frowned. "You cursed."

Fred laughed. "Yah, I curse a lot. I'm human, oh no." Faye laughed as well, and wiped her eyes. "You have a tremendous amount on your plate right now, and there's no reason why you have to make every single decision regarding your future immediately. You have time." Fred squeezed her hand, damp tissues and all. "Of course, I'm supposed to encourage you to go in a certain direction, because the diocese makes me, but that's all I'm going to say about that. What I _am_ going to say is that you will always be welcome to call me, to visit our center, to participate if you wish. We're a young student group on campus. This is our card, and the schedule is on the back. My direct number is on the front. May I come see you tomorrow?"

Faye was bewildered. She was expecting the third degree and admonishments to repent. "Sure."

"Okay then, I'll swing by tomorrow." He placed a hand gently on her head, and murmured a quiet prayer. Then he turned to leave.

"But, Father," Faye called. Fred went back to her side. "What about my penance? My hundred Hail Marys or whatever?"

Fred smiled that sweet smile again at her. "I think you've been living it. Peace be with you, Faye."

Spike finally went outside to find Ed. She was leaning up against a support pole, hands jammed into her jacket pockets, rucksack hanging over her shoulder.

"Ed? Are you okay?"

Ed swiped her arm across her eyes. "Yeah."

"We can visit Faye now." Ed nodded. Spike's brow furrowed. "It's going to be okay, Ed."

Ed turned and looked at Spike, wondering how to ask the man she loved whether he'd . . . put Faye in her current _condition_. "Yeah, it's going to be okay." _Somehow._ She took the hand that Spike had extended to her, and they walked back into the hospital together.

Meanwhile, Jet was breathing a sigh of relief, thankful that Faye's injuries hadn't been worse. Still, he was wondering why Faye needed to stay in hospital for so long. He could see her staying for a day or two at most, but the doctor informed him that Faye would need to stay for close to a week. _Extra monitoring_, the doctor had said. He found Faye's room and gently knocked. He heard a faint voice on the other side telling him to come in. Jet poked his head around the door. "Faye?"

"Hi."

"Hi yourself, twinkle toes. I have something for you."

"What is it?"

Jet presented the piece of pipe that Faye had been hanging from. "They had to pry it out of your hands because you wouldn't let go. Even when you were flat on your back on the ground." Faye laughed weakly. "Well, you look a little better. Less like a mud-covered demon and more like a hung-over angel."

"Did we get the bounty?"

Jet laughed. "Well, yes, we got all three of them, minus a bit for the guy . . . I had to shoot." Jet stroked her cheek. "Damn, woman. I almost leapt off the building after you."

"Good thing you didn't, you would have landed on me and crushed me."

Jet's smile faded. "You didn't even scream."

"I didn't?"

"No. Not a sound. Scared me half to death. I almost thought . . ." Just then, Ed and Spike entered, and the talk turned a little more spirited. Ed, however, remained fairly distant, and Jet never finished his earlier statement, leaving Faye feeling rather disjointed. _Well, being that I'm literally disjointed and half-full of narcotics, no wonder,_ she mused to herself. Dinner arrived, such as it was – mostly bland stuff, and the men had an idea to visit the cafeteria and get some dinner for all of them to share. "Only if you share with me," responded Faye, and the men went off in search of edible food. Ed remained behind, looking at everything in the room besides Faye.

Faye furrowed her brow. "Ed? Are you okay?"

Ed chuckled. "Funny, you asking _me_ that. Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Some. The drugs are okay, though."

"Yeah." Ed took a breath. "I hacked into your chart."

Faye's eyes grew wide. "Oh."

"I have to know . . . I . . ." Ed closed her eyes and bit her lip. Finally, in a rush, she asked, "It's not _Spike's_, is it?"

"Oh, _no._ Ed, I promise you, no. It's not. I swear. _Never_." Faye watched as Ed breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm sorry, Ed."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Faye, I'm the one that's sorry for asking, I should have known better."

Faye squeezed Ed's hand. "If Spike had even _tried_, you _know_ I'd give him a what-for. And I'd sic Jet on him, too."

Ed smiled. "You wouldn't have to sic Papa on him. Papa would do that on his own. He was so worried about you, Faye." Faye closed her eyes. "Faye? About the . . . are you glad? Or is it something you don't want?"

Faye didn't answer right away. She lifted her hand to her belly, still taut and flat and not yet revealing everything that was going on inside.

And for the first time, Faye let herself think: _I'm **pregnant**. I'm going to have a **baby**_.

Faye turned her eyes to Ed's, smiled, and said, "I'm glad."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	5. Offertory

**Offertory**

---------------------------------------------------

Faye was feeling her chronological age, the 70-some-odd years she actually was. At the moment, she was being supported by a nurse as Faye attempted to stand up for the first time since her fall. The nurses had been telling her that the doctors wanted her up and moving. It would be good for her and speed her healing. Faye was fully expecting her legs to completely disintegrate once she put weight on them, but so far, she was only experiencing some pain, which was tolerable.

_But I'm so weak_, thought Faye. _Like a newborn kitten or something_. Her broken leg was in a walking cast, and her dislocated knees were strapped into supports. Faye continued to hold on the nurse's arms, like they were learning how to dance, as they both made their way towards the bathroom. _It's such a big day_, Faye chuckled to herself. _I get to learn how to go potty again. Yippee. _

Just then, Jet poked his head around the door, knocking. "Hello?"

"Hello," replied Faye, as she continued shuffling along with the nurse.

"Well, you're up and moving. Good for you." Jet came into the room, bag in hand.

"I'm toilet-training today," said Faye, goofy grin on her face

Jet grimaced. "Do you need . . .help?"

"I'm in good hands, I think." She continued smiling at Jet.

"Well, then . . . I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Make it about fifteen. I'm moving kind of slow."

Jet nodded, and quickly left the room. Faye giggled, and the nurse smiled back at her. "He's a nice man," remarked the nurse. "He seems to care a lot about you."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Have you told him yet?"

Faye's eyes narrowed. "Told him _what_?"

The nurse raised her eyebrows. "Never mind."

Spike was currently sitting on the deck of the Bebop, fishing pole in hand, can of beer by his hip. He didn't like fishing. Fishing was merely an excuse to drink. Drinking was the excuse why he never caught anything. But the sun was out for once, and he wanted to take advantage of the big ol' glowing orb before it started raining again. He sensed someone behind him, moving silently. "What's up, Ed?"

"You're no fun anymore, Spike."

"Just because I know when you're behind me?"

Ed harrumphed at him, and plopped down on the deck by his side. "Catch anything?"

"Just more bait."

"Not surprised. It's the wrong time of day."

"To fish, yes. To slip around a beer, no." He offered the can to Ed, and she took a small sip. "Is Jet over at the hospital?" Spike asked.

"Yes. He said he was taking Faye a couple of books. The doctors said that she should be able to get out soon, once she's a little more ambulatory." Ed handed the can back to Spike, and continued, "She's going to need some physical therapy, I'm sure."

Spike nodded. "I can help her with that, though. I still remember enough of what Ein put me through."

Ed sighed. "I still miss Ein."

"I miss him too, kiddo," replied Spike, and he draped an arm around Ed. She snuggled up a little closer.

"Spike?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

Spike furrowed his brow and looked at her. "You're sorry for what?"

"For not trusting you. For not believing what kind of man you are."

"What did I do this time?"

Ed gave him a playful punch in the chest. "You didn't do _anything_. That's why I'm apologizing."

"Well, then, are you going to at least tell me what I _didn't_ do?"

"It's not my place to say."

Spike sighed. "You women. Mys-fucking-sterious, all of you." There was a tug on his line. He handed the pole to Ed, and said, "You bring this one in." Ed obliged, and they were both surprised to bring in a mid-sized king mackerel. Ed gave a mighty whoop and danced around in the sun, holding up their catch, while Spike laughed.

Jet had been wandering around the hospital, and he finally admitted that he had gotten himself lost. He laughed at himself. Jet Black, who had been able to case an entire joint just by the feel of the outside walls, was turned bass-ackwards in a damn hospital. He turned a corner, and found a directory. He scanned down the list and found where he wanted to go. On his way, he passed a hallway that had quite a few people in it, looking through a large window. Looking up, he saw the placard "Nursery", and with a shrug, he decided to take a side trip and peek at the little tykes.

Jet found an empty space at the window, and peered in at all the little bundles, wrapped in pink or blue. The one closest to him must have been a boy, judging by the little blue hat he wore. The infant was swaddled tightly in a blanket, and it appeared to Jet that the kid was looking right at him. _That's unlikely_, he thought. _Probably just senses movement. _Still, it made Jet wonder about children and fatherhood in general. In his past, he'd never really thought about being a parent. But then Spike and Ed and Faye had shown up and he'd become a sort of proxy father-figure to the three dysfunctional "children". And he'd come to treasure each of them in their own way, especially Ed. _I must be mellowing in my old age,_ thought Jet. _You take care, son_, he projected at the infant behind the glass._ Do what your folks say._ He then went to find Faye's room again.

The nurse congratulated Faye on a successful trip. The doctor would be sending her home soon, once she'd passed gas and had a bowel movement. _Thanks for the information_, Faye had replied, and the nurse gave her some more milk of magnesia, and the order to walk as much as she could.

Faye had managed to get back into bed without too much trouble, only sending a couple of painful shock waves from her tailbone. She had just pulled the books that Jet had brought her out of the bag when he knocked on her door again. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Mission accomplished, Mr. Black."

Jet chuckled, and pulled up a chair. "So you think they're going to let you out soon?"

"Once I've managed a couple more bodily functions, yes. I'm supposed to . . ."

"I don't think you need to tell me," Jet quickly replied, holding up his hands in surrender.

Faye snorted. "What I was going to say is that I'm supposed to walk as much as I can. It's supposed to help. . . make things _move_."

"So . . . you want to take a walk?"

"Not right now. I'm worn out. So where did you go?"

"I was just wandering around the hospital." Jet stood back up, and poured Faye a fresh glass of ice water. "I went by the nursery, peeked in at all the babies."

Faye's hand froze halfway to her mouth. "Did you?"

"Yeah, they're cute when they're little like that."

Faye chuckled. "Then they grow up." She took a breath. "Jet, have you ever considered . . . raising kids?"

"I raised you three, didn't I?"

Both of them laughed, and then the conversation moved on to other subjects.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	6. Ministry

**Ministry**

---------------------------------------------------

The doctors decided that Faye needed to stay a little longer. She had begun experiencing terrible cramps one night, and she was terrified that she was having a miscarriage. She went back on bed rest and was being constantly monitored by various little electrodes that she had pasted underneath her gown, as well as being moved into the telemetry ward. Jet had been demanding information regarding Faye's health, so the doctors were reporting that she had internal injuries and cardio problems sustained by the fall. Legally, the hospital was bound to not disclose Faye's pregnancy to anyone she didn't want knowing. Fr. Fred knew, but he wasn't going to say anything, and neither was Ed. Ed, in fact, didn't even ask any questions regarding Faye's health beyond her injuries sustained in the fall. Faye was thankful for this, for she had expected Ed to try to drag information out of her by simply being obnoxious.

So far, though, everything was going better, and the baby was acting like it was going to stay put. Faye had begun to get excited about the prospect of becoming a mother. She had taken to keeping her hand on her abdomen and having one-sided conversations with the baby.

_So you thought you were going to vacate your little apartment, huh, kiddo? Why would you want to do that? I'd think it'd be nice in there, except for the humidity. Maybe if I take an effervescent tablet, it would be like a whirlpool. What do you think?_

The rest of the Bebop crew were daily visitors, in shifts. Fr. Fred visited whenever his schedule permitted. A couple of times, other people representing the campus chapel came by to say hello. One older lady had even brought her a rosary, and a card that reminded Faye what prayers to say. Faye had yet to pray on it, however. But she would hold the rosary and finger the beads, thinking about her future.

One day, Faye had fallen asleep with the beads in her hands. She woke up to the touch of someone carefully disentangling the rosary from her fingers. Faye looked up to see Spike, who had gotten the beads loose.

"Hi, Romani. Pretty rosary."

"Hello yourself, Gorgio. Thanks. The beads are made out of pressed rose petals."

Spike lifted the beads up to his nose. "So they are. A St. Theresa rosary? The Little Flower?"

Faye furrowed her brow. "What would you know about St. Theresa?"

Spike shrugged and put the rosary on the bedside table. "Went to a seminary school, remember?" Spike looked at Faye's expression of disbelief. "Faye, we've been through this. Yes, I went to seminary for a while."

"I know. It just still surprises me to hear you say anything about it."

Spike chuckled. "I ran into your nurse outside, and she told me to get you up for a little walk. She wants to see you make half-a-lap around the desk." Faye groaned. "If you don't, Faye, your lungs are going to fill with fluid. And your rosary won't be able to help you then. C'mon."

Spike folded back the sheet covering her legs, and pulled over the rolling stand with her monitors. Holding out his hand, he supported Faye as she maneuvered herself out of the bed. Thankfully, her gown was of a kimono-style, so she didn't have to worry about mooning everyone. Spike then placed her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked slowly out of the room. If it hadn't been for Faye's hospital gown and the rolling stand of monitors, they would have looked like a couple out for a stroll in the afternoon sun.

However, Faye tired very quickly, and Spike helped her sit in a chair in the hall. And while she would have preferred to just stretch her feet out in front of her, Spike made her bend her knees to a 90-degree angle.

"You're a horrible taskmaster, lunkhead."

"Then you're going to hate me even more when you get back to the Bebop and I begin your PT proper."

"You're not going to make me talk endlessly about Elmer J. Fudd, are you?"

Spike gave her a look. "No, I don't think you need speech therapy. Although perhaps the rest of us would benefit from your jaw being wired shut."

Just then, Faye heard someone calling her name. Spike looked up to the voice, and his eyes grew wide. "_Freddy_?"

"_Spike_?"

Faye's jaw was practically hanging on her chest as she watched the tall lanky man give a gruff hug with the ubiquitous back-slaps to the much shorter priest. _The lunkhead knows a **priest**? What next?_

Spike was incredulous. "You son-of-a-gun, I knew that Father Bill was tapping you to join the priesthood, but I didn't think you'd actually take him up on it."

Fred laughed. "He was trying to tap you as well, you belligerent heathen. That was his _job_, for crying out loud."

Both men laughed and began to trade memories. Finally, they remembered Faye, and Fred turned to her and said, "You should have heard this guy play clarinet. He could make that thing sing like an angel. And then he stole my chair in orchestra."

Spike snorted. "You're still mad about_ that_? _You're_ the one who didn't change out your reed on audition day and sounded like a waterlogged kazoo."

Fred punched Spike in the arm, and then said, "Dude. I'll be right back." And the little man took off running down the hall, and several nurses yelled at him. Spike chuckled and shook his head.

Faye smiled. "Will wonders never cease with you? You considered becoming a _priest_?"

"_No_. Can you imagine me being called _Father Spike_?"

"_Father_ _Joseph_ has a better ring to it."

Spike scowled at her, and then sighed. "C'mon, get up, let's keep walking." Faye muttered epithets under her breath, but let Spike help support her as she got to her feet.

"You have an amazing past life, Spike. Imagine what would have happened if you'd followed in Fred's footsteps."

"I wouldn't have met you, or Jet, or Ed. I wouldn't be walking down a hospital corridor with you on my arm."

"Or had a false eye or cheated death at least half-a-dozen-times, or been so betrayed by people you loved and trusted."

"You either make the right decision, Faye, or you make the decision right." Spike pushed open the heavy door to her room, and walked her back to her bed. As Faye was struggling back into her bed, Fred walked in with a small case. Spike recognized it and shook his head. "Oh, no. No, no, no." Fred merely laughed and set the case on the bed, popping it open. Inside was a dismantled clarinet. Fred took out the pieces and began assembling them. Spike grabbed them out of his hands, saying, "You're overturning it. Stop manhandling that poor woodwind that way." Once Spike got the instrument together, he ran through a set of scales, his fingers almost instantly settling into place with muscle memory. "Geez, it's been over twenty years, Fred."

Fred sat on the bed next to Faye, saying, "It's just like falling off a bicycle. C'mon, let's hear something."

Spike stood for a moment, thinking. Then he set his fingers in place on the keys, took a breath, and started a note that trebled high, settling into a melody familiar to Faye. She closed her eyes, listening. After a few measures, she knew the tune. Gershwin, _Rhapsody in Blue_. Faye opened her eyes and smiled at Fred, who smiled back at her and patted her on her leg cast. Both Fred and Faye turned their full attention to Spike, who was tapping his foot in time, concentrating on his playing.

_Who knows how our pasts could lay the path for our futures? What choices would Spike make differently? Am I walking the correct path for me?_ Faye wondered. But then she remembered what Spike had said. _If this is not the right decision, then I'll make the decision right. No matter what, kiddo, you'll be able to count on me._

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	7. Pilgrimage

**Pilgrimage**

---------------------------------------------------

Four weeks had passed since Faye had fallen into a patch of mud and subsequently learned she was pregnant. By her estimation, she was sixty-eight days into the process of two hundred and eighty. Roughly. Every morning, she would look at her profile in the bathroom mirror and try to gauge whether she was showing. Faye thought that she could detect a little swell in her belly, but then, she'd also put on a little bit of pudge from being so inactive.

_Well, inactive relatively speaking_, thought Faye. True to his word, Spike had been putting her through some serious exercises and physical therapy, and some of the "sessions" had reduced her to tears and serious name-calling. Jet thought that at one point, Faye had been gibbering curses in Welsh and was invoking demons to come and do away with Spike. And of course, Spike being Spike, all pleas to sway him into letting up on her were met by deaf ears.

On this particular day, however, there was no exercising, for Jet and Spike had gone off in search of a bounty. The cupboards were getting meager, according to Jet. Ed remained behind. Faye found out very quickly that Spike must have put the kibosh on Ed doing every little chore that Faye could be doing herself. So Faye still had to make her own meals, do her own laundry, clean up after herself, etcetera. But Ed did download a bunch of classic movies off the web for them to watch while the guys were gone.

At the moment, Ed was shrieking with delight at The Lollipop Gang as they sang for Dorothy and Toto when the comm buzzed. Faye answered.

"Faye Valentine?"

"Yes?" Faye got up and moved away from the television.

"This is Howie Devine of the Citadel. Have you heard of us?"

"Didn't you take over the El Dorado?"

"Yes. The reason I'm calling is because I want you to be the commentator and spokesperson for the Poker Tour Grand Prix this year. It would start in one week, yeah, I know we're running behind, damn assistant dropped the motherlovin' ball on me, but anyway, this gig will go for the next six months or so. You'd also be playing in invitationals, you know, for charity and that kind of stuff . . ."

Devine continued describing what the pay and the perks would be, and Faye was astounded. She'd be on Venus the whole time, and she would have accommodations in the extended-stay portion of the hotel, plus per diem. On top of a regular and rather lofty paycheck.

". . . So what do you say, Faye? I enjoyed watching you in the IntraGalactic Con last year."

"But . . ." Faye stammered for a moment. "I recently had a bad accident, and I've a broken leg . . ."

"We'll work around that."

"But there's also . . ."

"Whatever it is, we'll work around. Even if you're growing a third eye. Be tough on the makeup department, but they're sharp cookies over there. You don't got a third eye, do you?"

Faye chuckled. "Not a third eye _per se_."

"Okay, then. Should be easy as pie." Devine gave her his number, and the request that she not take too long to think about it. Faye thanked him and logged off the comm.

Faye returned to the sofa, but she was too deep in thought to watch the rest of the movie with Ed. The offer was almost too good, and she would have simply written Devine and his offer off except that she knew about the Grand Prix. She'd even applied for a spot before she had her accident, which she had never heard back from, so she assumed that she'd gotten the axe.

But _commentator?_ She'd done some of that of her last tour, and she'd enjoyed it, too. The cameras loved her: she was sassy and irreverent; that is, she basically acted like the supposed "shrew" that Spike claimed she was.

The question was, would the public enjoy a sassy, irreverent, _pregnant _commentator? Well, Devine said they'd work around it. And with what she was getting paid, she'd be able to afford some sassy maternity gowns too.

Faye finally realized that Ed was trying to get her attention by singsonging "Faye-faye", over and over. Faye blinked and said, "What, Ed?"

"Why is Faye-faye not watching movie with Ed?"

"Why has Ed reverted to talking like she's thirteen again?"

"Ed asked first."

Faye rolled her eyes. "Ed, what would you think if I told you I was just offered a really plum job on Venus?" Faye told Ed what Devine had told her. "I know it's probably a one-shot deal right now, but if Devine remembered me that whole time I was in that two-bit poker tour, imagine what kind of press I'd get on a big show like this!"

Ed's eyebrows knitted together. "So you'd live on Venus?"

"For now, yes."

"What about the baby?"

Faye smiled. "Well, right now the baby doesn't have much of a choice, Ed, it kind of has to go where I go."

"Why haven't you told Papa yet?"

Faye's smile faded. "Why would I tell him?"

Ed scowled. "Why _wouldn't_ you?" Ed took a breath. "I don't understand why you're keeping the baby a secret from Papa. Do you care that little for him; after all he's done for you?"

"Honestly, Ed, this is _none_ of your business, and the only reason you even know is because of your damn hacking!"

"I think he'd want to know."

"Jet doesn't _need_ to know."

Ed was incredulous. "You're saying a father doesn't need to know about his baby? Nice one, Faye. Whatever. Do whatever you want; run off to Venus, I don't care anymore." Ed got up and started leaving the room.

Faye yelled after her, "You're not going to tell him!"

Ed whirled around. "_I'm_ not. But _you _should." Ed stomped away, and Faye heard her door close in the distance.

Faye put her palms against her cheeks. They were hot. Her eyes were stinging with tears. _How did Ed guess? I've never mentioned that Jet . . . _Faye sighed. The girl guessed, and then Faye had given it away. _You walked right into it, Faye, stupid, stupid._

Faye hadn't told Jet because, well, she was scared. She felt pretty certain that Jet wouldn't want to be tied down for the next 18-something years because she'd gotten tipsy on a bottle of mediocre wine. And had apparently been lax in taking her birth control. She thought she was good about that, but somewhere, she must have forgotten and then forgot that she forgot. Jet had even asked her, _are we going to be okay_, and of course Faye, in her stupid horny and aroused fog, had said, _sure, no worries_.

_Damnit_, Faye thought. _Three little words again. Christ on a crutch._

In an effort to clear her head, Faye lay back on the couch and alternated bringing her knees up to her chest, and holding them in the most bent position she could as long as she could. She had been doing this about a half an hour when she heard Jet and Spike return. Jet was grumbling about something-or-other, and apparently Spike's response was to light a cigarette. Jet grumbled again about no smoking on the ship, and then made a loud protest when Spike apparently extinguished the light on his own tongue.

Faye made her best attempt to ignore the long-standing familiarities as she continued her knee-bending exercise. She then opened her eyes when she felt Spike's hand pushing her bent leg further down to her chest, which made Faye cry out in pain. "Now hold it there," Spike muttered.

"You're a grade-A sadistic bastard," replied Faye through her gritted teeth. "You don't treat Ed like this, do you?"

"Are you kidding? She's as flexible as a rubber band. She could make the best contortionist weep."

Faye raised an eyebrow. "And you know this from experience?"

Spike gave her a look. "_No_. Now the other leg."

Faye switched legs, but she felt it necessary to continue needling Spike. "So what _is_ your experience with Ed?" Spike said nothing, but he took both of Faye's legs by the ankles and pushed them into a 90-degree angle from her hips. "I hear that _flexibility _is the key to every relationship."

Spike gave her legs an extra push, which made her tailbone twinge. Faye gasped. Spike said, "You can say what you like about me, but I won't have you talking about Ed like that."

Faye sighed. She had no right to be bad-mouthing Ed like this, especially after all the help she had given Faye since her release from the hospital. "I'm sorry. It must be the hormone stew talking again." And then Faye drew a quick breath, and looked at Spike to see if her slip had been noticed. Apparently, it hadn't, as he was more concerned about the fact that the range of motion of each of her knees was different.

Jet finally came out of the kitchen. "Well, we should be good for groceries for a while."

"So you got the bounty?" asked Faye.

Jet shrugged. "Well, yeah, but it wasn't going to be enough to cover expenses so Ed sold off a couple of her patents to float us all for a while." Faye suddenly looked dismayed. "What's wrong, Faye?"

"It's . . . Christ, Jet, I feel terrible. I've just been a lay about for weeks, not contributing at all . . ."

Jet scowled. "You've been injured."

"I'm a burden."

Spike helped Faye into a sitting position. "No one's saying you're a burden, Faye."

"No, you're not saying it, but I am! Ed has to support us because I can't pull my weight!"

"Faye," replied Jet, "It was Ed's idea to sell off those two patents. She was able to secure a bundle for them. It won't be too long before you're able to get back in the game."

Faye sniffed. "Back in the game. Right. My hand's completely bungled, I'm a complete weakling. I wouldn't be of any help. I'm an albatross around your neck." Faye bit her lip. "Look, I got a call today. The new owner of the old El Dorado property wants me to commentate the Poker Grand Prix. It's cushy, it's . . . non-aerobic, it's semi-permanent, and it's good money. I can transfer funds to you guys to pay you back . . ."

"Hold on, hold on, Faye." Jet looked puzzled. "You're saying you're taking off back to Venus? 'Semi-permanently'?"

"I . . ." Faye looked down. "I can't be a bounty hunter anymore. I just _can't_. And this opportunity – it's come at a perfect time."

Now Jet looked dismayed. "There's no reason you can't stay, Faye."

"No, Jet. It's time for me to do this. Now. Today."

Jet and Spike looked at each other. Jet said, "What, _now_? You're not strong enough to fly the Redtail there."

"No, I know . . . I'll take a commercial transport. You can sell the Redtail."

_Sell the Redtail?_ Jet thought wildly. _She's that serious?_ "Well, the Redtail's not taking up an excessive amount of real estate. It can stay."

"Well, then," Faye said, as she stood up. "I've got some calls to make." She slowly limped from the room, and Jet and Spike watched her go.

Spike took a look at Jet. "Sounds like she's really going this time. What do you think?"

Jet stared off into the middle space for a while, and then bit his lip. He rose, saying, "I think I'm going to start dinner." Spike watched as Jet walked towards the kitchen. But instead of hearing chopping and pot-banging noises, only silence came from the kitchen. Spike walked out to the deck, not only so that he could finish his interrupted cigarette, but to give Jet some time alone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	8. Exodus

**Exodus**

---------------------------------------------------

Faye was packing. It was troubling to her that the only evidence of her existence on this ship was a couple of bags of clothes and other personal items, along with the Beta™ VCR and tape. She had made all of her phone calls. Devine was delighted that Faye had agreed to his offer, and he immediately made travel reservations for her. A taxi was coming to get her soon.

And she needed to leave before she lost her nerve.

Faye had eaten some of the food that Jet had made because he insisted. He'd even tried to make a sort of celebration out of the dinner, and Ed had taken pictures of all of them for Faye to keep. But the taste in Faye's mouth was bittersweet. Ed was still very angry at her. Jet was trying too hard to be chipper. Spike was probably the only person who was genuinely happy for her, although he did pepper his remarks with "about time" a bit too often.

Faye was struggling with the clasp on a suitcase when Jet knocked on her door. "Need some help?"

Faye brushed her hair out of her eyes and put a smile on her face. "I can't get this bag to close."

Jet told her to sit on the case while he worked the locks. They clicked closed, but Jet remained with his hands where they were, one on either side of her legs. He said, "You know, I really will miss you."

Faye smirked, tilted her head to the side, and said, "Oh, you don't mean that. You and Spike will party hearty as soon as I step off this barnacle breeder."

Jet looked at her with a sad look in his eyes. "Maybe we'll wait five minutes." They chuckled. Jet continued, "I need to know . . ." Faye bit her lip. "Are you leaving because of what . . . _transpired_ between us?"

Faye couldn't help it, she had to laugh. "_Transpired_?" Jet gave her a look, and she sobered. "No, Jet. I'm not leaving . . . because of that. I need to move on and make a new life for me. But . . . _I_ need to know something too. Back in the hospital, when you told me that I didn't scream when I fell. You started to say something else, but Spike and Ed came in. What were you going to say?"

Jet looked into her eyes, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I was going to say that I was afraid that you figured you would die. That you didn't care anymore about living this screwed-up life you had to deal with, and that you were ready for it to be over."

Faye drew a sharp breath, and she wrapped her arms around Jet's neck. "No. No. Never." Jet held her tight. "And regarding _that_ night, that was absolutely wonderful. I'll never forget it, you devil. But now . . ." Faye released her grip on Jet's neck. "I need some help with these bags."

Jet laughed, and shouted for Spike and Ed to give him a hand, the wench was almost ready to get lost.

As Spike and Jet struggled with her bags, Faye sought out Ed. Ed was in her room, pounding relentlessly on her Tomato.

"Ed? I'm going to be leaving soon." Ed nodded. "I don't want to leave with you so mad at me. I don't expect you to understand why I'm doing this, but I do wish that you'd at least respect that my decisions are mine to make, whether you think they're right or not."

Ed kept her back to Faye, but she sniffed, and said, "I know. Really, I do . . .but. . . Ed just doesn't want Faye-faye to go."

"Oh, Ed . . ." Faye went over to Ed and wrapped her arms around her. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"Ed's going to miss Faye-faye too."

The tears in Faye's eyes spilled over. "Will Ed please keep being Faye-faye's friend? Faye-faye really needs Ed to be her friend."

Ed smiled at Faye, and wiped her eyes. "Ed promises. Ed will always be Faye-faye's friend." And the girls hugged each other tight.

Spike and Jet were currently standing on the deck, watching for Faye's taxi, both them filled with sadness. Neither one of them could explain why Faye's leaving this time was so different. She'd left before on any number of occasions, but this time, it seemed as thought it would be permanent. Faye and Ed finally appeared on the deck, and it was obvious both of them had been crying. Jet wished he could cry too, but his sense of masculine preservation was too strong.

The taxi appeared on the street below, and each crew member grabbed a bag of some sort and made a parade down to the street. They quietly loaded her luggage in the back of the car, and then stood awkwardly, not sure what to say next. Spike finally broke the silence by grabbing Faye in a hug, swinging her around in a circle, shouting, "_Mazeltov_, Faye! Now get out of here, wouldja?" making everyone laugh. The tension and sadness was broken, and everyone got in a goodbye and a hug and kiss or two. Spike warned her that _he_ was still a bounty hunter and he would find out if she skived on her physical therapy. Ed challenged her to volleyball when her hand felt better, still calling her Faye-faye. Jet told her that regardless of what she'd be doing now, that she needed to keep her Glock and her marksmanship in shape, or else.

Laughing, Faye caught them all in a final group hug, promising that she would be keeping in touch so obnoxiously that they'd probably think she'd never left. And as the taxi drove away with her in the back seat, she waved out the window until she could no longer see them.

Sitting back in the seat, Faye took a deep breath. _We're moving up and moving out, kiddo. I think we're going to make it after all. _Faye suddenly had a crazy desire to throw a hat in the air, and she giggled, excited for her brand-new future.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	9. Kyrie, Eleison

**Kyrie, Eleison**

---------------------------------------------------

If Faye had thought that her previous poker tour was crazy, this poker tourney was utterly insane. Every day, she had to give interviews, take interviews, chat, cajole, charm, and generally schmooze each and every person involved with this event. Every day was exhausting. Faye would be on her feet for sixteen hours straight and gratefully fall into her bed once she'd stuffed her face with the latest and greatest menu items available from the Five-Star chef downstairs that she'd had the good fortune to chat up one night. He, or one of his minions, would magically appear whenever Faye had the notion that she should probably eat something.

Devine was actually a hoot to work for. Howie Devine was a huge, bilious man, balding, and always wearing a three-piece suit and chomping on a cigar that smelled like cow dung. He'd tell her dirty jokes while sharing his enormous lunches that his wife, Inga, would pack for him. When Devine discovered that Faye had a penchant for singing limericks, he gave her a huge book full of limericks for every occasion. When Faye asked what kind of computer she should buy so that she could send email, he yelled for one of his assistants to call the hotel IT and get her set up. Devine had even arranged for a personal trainer to help Faye continue her physical therapy, and Faye had _carte blanche_ at the hotel spa for a daily massage.

One day, when Faye had been at the Citadel for about two months, she was telling Devine a story about Ein eating Spike's wallet when he interrupted her.

"So, Valentine."

Faye went silent. "Yes?"

"Bun in the oven?"

Faye began to tremble. "Yes."

"How far along?"

Faye did some quick calculations in her head. She bit her lip, and her eyebrows knitted. "Almost eighteen weeks."

Devine frowned, and then he said, "Hang on a minute." He picked up a phone and dialed.

Faye sat in the huge chair on the other side of his desk, eyes filling with tears. She took some deep breaths, and awaited her fate. _Oh God, please, I don't want to get fired. Please._ And then, she thought, _What was I thinking? How did I even think that I'd be able to do this? Keeping a pregnancy a secret? Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Devine started talking into the phone. "Yeah. It's me. We got a situation here. Just like you thought. Who was the guy we used for Susie? Yeah? Okay." He started writing something.

Faye's mind raced. _Who's Susie? What "guy" is this? Dear God, what is he talking about?_

Devine laid down the phone and looked at Faye. She was in an utter panic: she was halfway standing out of her chair, and her hands were clutching the arms, white-knuckled. "Faye. Siddown." Faye complied. Devine held out a slip of paper. "Here's the name and number of the baby doctor my daughter Susie used. Good guy. Tell his nurse I sent you. And Inga says congrats, why didn't you tell us, and she's throwing you a shower."

Faye stared for a moment, and then burst into tears. Suddenly, she found herself pulled into Devine's gruff hug. He petted her hair and rocked her like she was a little girl.

Devine chuckled. "Now don't get your water hot. Everything's gonna be okay. Ain't no one's business but your own, and nothing's going to change. I told ya, whatever ya got, we'll work around, and we're gonna." He put a finger under Faye's chin and raised her face to look at him. "Jesus, kid, get outta here. Wash your face. You look like a Saturday night hooker on a Tuesday morning."

Faye laughed, and then gave Devine one last squeeze, saying, "Thank you."

Devine squeezed her back. "Congratulations, kid."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	10. Omission

**Omission**

---------------------------------------------------

It had been four months, give or take, since Faye had left for Venus. In Spike's estimation, that was roughly how long Jet had been behaving like a pain in the ass. He frequently lost his temper, his cooking ability had gone straight into the toilet, his _bonsai _were growing wild, and he was generally surly and awful to be around.

As a result, Ed and Spike spent more and more time together. Whether this irked Jet even more than Faye being gone, neither one could say. However, all the attention from Spike filled Ed with joy.

One night, shortly after Ed's nineteenth birthday, she and Spike were sitting on the sofa, watching a brand-spanking new digital television (Ed's gift to herself), when coverage from the poker tourney on Venus began. Faye was sitting behind a desk, wearing a gown which was the turquoise color of a tropical ocean. The style of the gown reminded Spike of the red one she wore one night when they all went dancing, with a tight bodice, and a skirt of a flowy lightweight material. But this dress was high-waisted with exquisite beading on the raised waistline. Faye was chatting about the prospects of the evening's players with another commentator, when one of the players pulled Faye out from behind the desk and began dancing with her. He kept spinning her around as she laughed with delight, and then finally gave the player a squeeze and escaped back to behind the desk.

Spike frowned at Faye's image. Something was different about her, the way she looked, the way she moved. He tucked the thought into the back of his mind as Faye and her co-host went back to chatting about the game tonight. Shortly, though, the show cut to a commercial, and the send-off showed a replay clip of Faye and the guy dancing. And as the guy spun her in the replay, Spike realized what was different. "Holy . . .", he said, sitting up. "Did you see that?"

Ed looked at him. "What?"

"Faye."

"What about her?"

Spike went silent for a moment, and then shook his head. "Well, I don't know. It just looked . . ."

Ed's eyes went wide. "Looked like what?"

"Well, frankly, like . . ." The program looked like it was coming back on, and Spike grabbed the remote. The network went back to the show with the clip they left on, the replay of Faye dancing. Spike paused the digital feed. He leaned in closer to the screen, scrutinizing the image of Faye. He sat back and scrubbed his face with a hand. "Christ on a crutch." He looked at Ed. Ed looked back at him. Spike's eyes narrowed. "You knew, didn't you?"

Ed was silent.

"How long have you known about this?"

Ed's lip began to tremble. Finally, she whispered, "Since Faye's fall."

"When you hacked into her chart in the waiting room." Ed nodded. "Why didn't you _say _anything?"

"Faye didn't want me to. And it wasn't my place to say."

Spike chuckled, and put his head in his hands. "Wasn't your place to say . . ." Suddenly, he flashed on a memory of an odd conversation he had with Ed recently.

"_I'm sorry."_

_Spike furrowed his brow and looked at her. "You're sorry for what?"_

"_For not trusting you. For not believing what kind of man you are."_

"_What did I do this time?"_

_Ed gave him a playful punch in the chest. "You didn't do anything. That's why I'm apologizing."_

"_Well, then, are you going to at least tell me what I didn't do?"_

"_It's not my place to say."_

Spike turned to Ed, and moved his face close to hers, staring into her large amber eyes. "You thought. . ." Ed stared silently back at Spike, and her eyes grew shiny with tears. "You thought that I . . ." Spike pulled away and narrowed his eyes. Ed sat, fearful, waiting. Waiting for an explosion. But Spike sat silently, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before.

And finally, Spike stood up and left the ship without a word. Ed curled into a ball on the sofa, wishing, even though she had never known Spike to lay a finger on a woman in anger, that he'd simply struck her, instead.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	11. Renewal

**Renewal**

---------------------------------------------------

After making his phone call, Spike found the meeting point, and the location neither surprised nor amused him. As he stood on the steps of the Old Saint Mary's Church, he looked up at the rose window, glinting with its bright colors in the afternoon sun. He had never been here before. Hundreds of students milled around him, on their way to classes, their dorms, their local bar for early happy hour.

Spike had never gone to college. At the time that most kids think about furthering their education, Spike had been attending the School of Hard Knocks, majoring in "Getting the Shit Kicked Out Of You". He looked out of place. He _felt_ out of place. He hadn't stepped foot on this campus since a bonfire last winter, when he and Ed had burned straw witches, and his contained a slip of paper on which he had written a single phrase that he wasn't even sure he understood: _wake me up inside._

"Hey, Spike. Do you want cream or sugar?"

"Black is good." Fred handed Spike his coffee, and sat down on the steps in the sun. Spike sat as well, asking, "Aren't we supposed to go into little booths with a screen in between us?"

Fred laughed. "I didn't realize this was going to be a formal confession. I thought you just needed to talk." Fred sipped his coffee. "So what's going on?"

"Christ, I don't even know where to start. I didn't have anyone else to talk to."

"I thought you had your crewmates."

"Faye is gone, left for Venus, and is currently half-way through a pregnancy that she didn't see fit to let anyone know about. Jet, who I suspect fathered that child but doesn't know it, has been a bear to live with since Faye left. At the moment, I appear to have an exclusive relationship with a nineteen-year-old girl, whom I have no business looking at, much less talking to, named _Edward. _And Ed not only knew about Faye, but she went so far as to question whether _I_ was the father."

Fred was quiet for a moment. "So do you guys have writers for all this stuff, or what? Because I find it really hard to believe that you all created this much drama on your own."

"Christ, Fred, you don't know the half of it. I wonder if I _should_ have become a priest after all and lived a life of quiet contentment."

"Spike, I'm the only priest for a parish located on a campus of sixty-five thousand students. You think I have a quiet life? I have to drink a gallon of coffee a day just to cope. These kids are nuts. Wonderful and inspiring, but also nuts."

Spike laughed. "So you think I'm just an idiot?"

"The fact that you're an idiot is very well established, I think. Ed has no idea where she stands with you, and it should have been no surprise that she might have thought you could be the father. Anyway, it was _Faye's _business, and _only _Faye's, whether she told you, or anyone else, that she was pregnant. And you're only assuming that Jet is the father."

"Am I right, though?"

"I'm neither going to confirm nor deny that."

"So what should I do, Father?"

Fred took a swig of his coffee. "Get over yourself. Accept Ed's apology, even though she doesn't owe you one. Send Jet to find Faye. Make an honest woman out of Ed."

"I haven't done anything to Ed to necessitate making her honest."

"Perhaps, Spike, that's your biggest problem."

Back on the Bebop, Jet gazed at his bonsai. They were getting brambly, out of control. He pulled the closest one towards him, and began a laborious process of reinterpreting one small branch. The best way was to start small, to modify only a bit at first, to train the errant twigs into a more proper direction.

But it was all about positive reinforcement, really. Working too roughly would only damage the delicate branches, and irrevocably send them in a wrong direction. The trick was patience. Kindness. And consistency.

Jet had, in fact, been very troubled by his recent behavior. He had regrets, not only about the things he had done, but also things he hadn't done.

And as Jet gently worked a tiny branch into a more pleasing direction, he felt pretty sure that his greater regret was the things he _hadn't _done.

However, as he watched the branch transform under his ministrations, Jet was also fairly positive that, with time and patience and care, he would be able to correct that.

On Venus, Faye was going through a box of hand-me-downs from Susie, Devine's daughter. Susie had had a child the previous year, at about the same time that Faye's baby was due. Every item seemed so impossibly small to Faye. Then she laughed, thinking that that was probably the most unoriginal thought anyone ever had while looking at baby clothes.

It was so quiet in her suite. Music was softly playing. It seemed that the rich fabrics and carpeting in the room muffled every bit of sound that Faye created, which was never much to begin with. The Bebop had metal floors and walls and three other people, and the only time it was silent was the wee hours when no one had yet begun a hangover, or the rare occasions when Ed had nothing to say. Ed had even slept loudly when she was younger and still crashing in the corridors.

Faye chuckled with the memory. She took another sip of orange juice - it seemed she always had a constant supply now – and got to her feet. Here, she had a lovely spacious room that was all hers, an unlimited supply of hot water, and the freedom to move about as she pleased. By contrast, the Bebop was crowded and cramped, with limited facilities, too many people, and the lingering stench of an old sweat sock. Yes, here, everything was better. Everything was taken care of.

Everything, except the loneliness.

Ed was currently on the deck of the Bebop, pacing. Spike had been gone for several hours, and it was starting to get dark. She had been spending the time replaying their conversation in her head, and imagining every worst-case scenario she could conjure.

_Could you be more stupid, Ed? This is even worse than when you turned eighteen and you told Spike flat-out, **flat-out**, that you loved him. _Ed fumed at herself for a few minutes, and then that little voice, the little Faye-faye voice, she called it, conjured itself back up from the recesses of her mind:

_You are **not** stupid, Ed. **Faye **was the one who should have let Papa know. And Spike. That was her deal to say, not yours. But she chose not to, and you don't own any of the mess that Faye created. And if Spike can't deal with that, then to hell with him. Who does he think he is, anyway? _

Ed snorted.

_Furthermore, he's been stringing you along for the past damned year, **a year**, and he hasn't touched you, kissed you, **nothing**, since Winfield tried to kill you. What is up with **that**?_

What was up with that, indeed? Ed crossed her arms, and decided that Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the 4th owed Joseph Decland "Spike" Spiegel no explanations.

_But he sure as hell owes **me** some._

Meanwhile, Jet had come outside, looking for her.

"Ed? Where's Spike?"

"I don't know, Papa."

"Are you waiting for him out here?" Ed didn't answer, and Jet came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did something happen?"

"It's just . . . He . . . Papa, I hate this."

"You know what? Me, too."

At that moment, Spike walked on to the deck, hands in pockets, slouched over as usual. _All he needs is a cigarette_, thought Ed. Jet dropped his hand from Ed's shoulder, and said, "I think I'll start dinner now."

As Jet passed by Spike, Spike drawled, "Will it be edible this time?"

"What makes you think there'll be any for you, Spiegel?"

"Hope springs eternal, Jet." Jet continued into the ship. Spike stood still, looking at Ed. Ed was silent, stewing. Then Spike began walking towards her, and stopped about a foot away, his eyes locked on hers.

Finally, Ed could no longer stand it, and she said, "Spike . . ."

"_Shhh_." Spike reached out with a finger, and laid it on her lips. He then moved his hand so that it was cupping her jaw, his calloused thumb stroking her cheek. Ed remained silent and still as Spike raised his other hand and cupped her face on the other side. He then reached up into her hairline, stroking Ed's brow, and ran his fingers through her cropped hair.

Ed frowned, and said, "Spike, what are you . . ."

"I said _shhh_."

Ed raised an eyebrow and replied, "Don't you tell me to _shhh_, Joseph Decland Spiegel, I have something to say to you . . ."

Spike cut her off by landing a kiss on Ed's very impertinent mouth.

Just then, Jet stomped back on to the deck, saying, "Okay, you two . . ." And he stopped at the sight of his almost-daughter in the arms of his long-time partner. Ed and Spike broke off the kiss and turned in Jet's direction, eyes wide.

After a moment, Jet harrumphed and said, "Batten down the hatches. We're going to Venus." And with that, Jet stomped back inside.

Spike chuckled, and turned back to Ed. "That's the smartest thing I've heard in a long time."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	12. Mystery

**Mystery**

---------------------------------------------------

The journey to Venus was uneventful. Spike spent the time dozing on the couch. Ed did a bit of hacking and located Faye's suite number, and then took a nap herself.

Jet was too antsy to sleep. He replayed over and over in his mind the conversation he'd _like_ to have with Faye, but everytime, it came off as bad movie dialogue. Or something from a cheap romance novel found in drugstores. What he essentially wanted to say was that he cared very much for her, and he missed her, and could they consider . . .

"Gah," Jet said with distaste. _Nothing I say will sound good anyway. The only hope is that I can say what I want to without her laughing at me. _

Jet began to mutter under his breath, and from behind him, he heard Spike say, "Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

"No, that would be talking to you."

"Christ, Jet, that was lame back in kindergarten. You never were good at the zingers, were you?" Spike sat next to Jet and lit a cigarette.

"Hasn't Ed gotten you to stop smoking yet?"

Spike exhaled a plume at the ceiling. "Ed tells me that kissing me is like licking the bottom of an ashtray." Ignoring Jet's look, Spike continued, "But since I've been known to lick ashtrays in dire straits, I can't see what the problem is."

"Can you not talk about kissing Ed?"

"She likes the taste of a man's tonsils," said Spike in reply, and Jet punched him in the bicep. "Yes, that Ed is one sprightly little filly."

Jet punched him again. "Will you _stop?_"

"Will you stop pissing your pants about seeing Faye?"

Jet snorted. "I just wish I knew what to say to her."

Spike chuckled, and replied, "I think you two will have a lot to talk about."

Once they had landed on Venus and had gotten their docking squared away, Ed and Spike began to make excuses about not seeing Faye right away. On one hand, Jet was a bit miffed about this, because he a) could have used backup while seeing Faye for the first time in months, and b) they hadn't see Faye and months, and this was a sort of family outing, so they should all visit together. On the other hand, Jet was relieved that he wouldn't be possibly making a fool of himself in front of others. Jet found the suite that Faye was lodged in, according to Ed, and he stood outside the door, reading the number over and over, trying to build up the courage to knock.

_Christ, I haven't been this antsy since asking Maria Vasquez to the freaking seventh-grade spring dance_, thought Jet nervously, and he kept rubbing his hand over the top of his bald head. Finally, he knocked, a series of sharp raps that sounded more like an unfriendly visit from the police.

Meanwhile, Ed and Spike were making their way through the hotel lobby, where it seemed that every conventioneer on the planet was checking out. "So what are we going to do in the meantime?" asked Ed.

"I need to do some shopping," replied Spike. "Where is the concierge in this place?"

"Shopping? Concierge? What are you looking for?" Spike told Ed what he had in mind, and her nose wrinkled. "You _have_ to be kidding. I can't _wait _to see this."

"Help me find the concierge, then, so I can find what I'm looking for."

Faye heard Jet's knock and frowned in the direction of the door. _What the? It's too early for Wolfgang to bring up dinner_, she thought, as she struggled out of the chair. _I'm not going to make it another 10 weeks at this rate. I feel like a bloated hippo already. _Faye took a quick look in the mirror, and decided that blue cotton pyjamas imprinted with little flying pigs were okay enough to answer to door for hotel staff. She scuffed her way to the door in her pink fuzzy slippers, and opened the door enough for her to peer around it.

"Faye."

Faye's eye grew wide, and her mouth opened. "Jet?"

"Hi."

"Hello."

They stood there, staring at each other. Faye hadn't moved, and all Jet could see of her was her head poking around the door. "Faye, I . . . I was hoping that we could talk."

Faye had yet to blink. "Okay."

"May I come in?"

Faye gave herself a little shake, and said, "Of course. I'm sorry." And she stepped back to open the door wider.

Jet dropped his gaze and walked into the room without looking at Faye. "I . . .Faye, when you left, I think that we left certain things unsaid." He began rubbing his head again, like he normally did when he was out of his element.

Jet remained with his back to her. Faye remained by the door.

Jet spoke again. "I just . . . I don't want to barge in on your life, and I'm not asking you to . . . you see, I just wanted to say . . ." As he was saying this, Jet finally turned around, and his eyes focused directly on Faye's swollen belly. ". . . Holy Mother of God."

Faye gave a shrug and a nervous smile. "Surprise."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	13. Revelation

**Revelation**

---------------------------------------------------

Spike and Ed were in a taxi, having found what Spike was looking for. Ed was shaking her head as she said, "I think I could know you for a million years and still not know you at all."

Spike frowned. "Am I really that hard to get to know?"

"I didn't mean for that to sound as bad as it does. I was trying to say that there are so many facets to your character. But you are very much an island unto yourself. It's very frustrating to be on the outside."

Spike sighed and gazed out the window. "I feel the same way."

Ed wrinkled her brow. "About me?"

Spike shook his head. "No. About me."

Jet had neither moved nor spoken in about three minutes. Neither had Faye. In her nervousness she had begun to count the number of times Jet blinked. She had gotten up to thirteen when Jet finally spoke.

"How far gone?

"Thirty weeks." Faye watched as Jet did the math in his head. "Jet, I . . ."

"You were pregnant and you let me drag you on a _bounty_?"

"I didn't know. I didn't find out until I was in the hospital."

"Is the baby okay? Even after that fall?"

"Yes."

Jet's voice suddenly grew loud. "_Are you sure?"_

"The doctors are certain that everything's fine."

"Everything's fine . . ." Jet trailed off and went to the window, leaning his head on his forearm. "You left without telling me. If I hadn't shown up today, would you have ever told me?"

Faye's chin trembled. "Of course I would have told you."

Jet turned to face her. "When, Faye, when? When you went into labor? When the baby got baptized? At the kid's college graduation?"

Faye's eyes brimmed with tears, and then spilled over. "I'm so sorry."

"You should be sorry! Damn you straight to hell and back, Faye!"

"I knew you'd be so angry with me."

"You're damned right I'm angry with you! How dare you keep this from me, Faye! I . . . I would have done anything for you if I'd known. I would have gone to every appointment, met with every doctor, held your hand through every procedure." Jet rubbed his face with his hands. "Christ, Faye, you made me miss everything. I didn't get to hold your hair back when you had morning sickness. I don't even know if you had morning sickness. I missed the ultrasound. I missed you getting bigger. I missed the first time the baby kicked. How could you keep me away from all that, Faye?"

Faye swallowed. "I was so afraid. I was so sure that you would reject me and the baby."

"I never would have. But you didn't even give me that chance."

"I'm so sorry, Jet."

"Faye, I would have taken care of you, if you'd only let me."

Faye took a deep breath. "I think . . . I think I wanted to learn that I could take care of myself first."

Jet began rubbing his face again, and with a derisive chuckle, said, "Oh, for the love of . . . you have got to be the most irritating, annoying, stubborn wench I have ever, ever known."

Faye gave a lopsided smile. "You wouldn't like me any other way."

"No, I suppose not. So . . ." Jet looked into Faye's eyes. "Am I allowed to come over there and meet this kid of mine, or what?"

"Sure. Just don't expect a handshake." They both laughed at that, and Jet came over towards Faye. Putting an arm around her, he gently placed one of his big hands on her belly, as if she was full of crushable flowers. Faye and Jet both closed their eyes and slowly began to rock back and forth. If anyone had been there to ask, both of them would have said that they were terrified beyond belief. However, they both knew that the future would come regardless of their best efforts, but right here, right now, everything was quite wonderful.

Ed was, frankly, puzzled. Spike was both withdrawn and extroverted by turns; however, this behavior by Spike was nothing new. She'd been aware of his quicksilver moods from the time they first met, but he'd turned rather cryptic in the past few years. Ed could have chalked it up to Spike's battle with Vicious. Even Papa had said that he'd never been quite the same after that. It also seemed to grow worse with every passing birthday, and had reached a peak once he'd learned of Faye's pregnancy.

Ed didn't want to press Spike. She knew better than that. But Ed still wished that she could hook up a wi-fi to his head and hack his brain, the way Ein had apparently been able to.

At this particular moment, though, Spike actually looked serene. Ed was sitting in the chair opposite the couch. Finally, she said, "I can't believe I'm seeing this."

"It's just like falling off a bicycle."

Ed stretched. "How do you think Papa and Faye-faye are doing?"

"I haven't heard any explosions yet. Damn. Now I lost count."

The comm. beeped, and Ed leaned over to answer. After a few moments, she turned off the comm. "Well, we'd better get back over to the hotel. Family meeting."

Spike chuckled. "When I was a kid, 'family meeting' meant that I had to go and pick out my own switch."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "And you _liked_ it, didn't you?" Spike gawped at her for a moment, and then burst out laughing. _This is how I wish he'd be more often. This is when he's at his best, and I couldn't love him any more than right now._

"You are one sick little monkey, Ed."

"Are you going to tell Papa?" Ed asked with a smirk.

Spike smiled at Ed, and her heart melted once again. "I think he has enough on his plate, don't you?" And he got up and took her by the hand and escorted her back to the hotel to meet Jet, and hopefully, Faye.

When Ed and Spike reached the restaurant, they both saw Faye and Jet, sitting together at a table. Ed dashed ahead to grab Faye in a hug. Spike came up shortly, kissed Faye, and held her tight, which brought tears to Faye's eyes. Spike then drawled, "So it's okay that we all know about this, now?"

Faye laughed and sat back down. "I suppose. It's hard to hide the fact you look like a bloated horse. Here, though. This is the ultrasound I had a little while ago." Faye handed a print to Spike, who made a great show of trying to figure out which way was up.

"Are you sure you're having a baby, Faye?" Faye snorted, grabbed the print, and turned it right-side-up. Spike shook his head. "Still looks like an iguana."

Ed gave Spike a smack on the arm, and said, "It's beautiful, Faye. Boy or girl?"

Faye smiled. "I didn't want to know. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Spike handed back the print, and turned to Jet. "And how is Papa taking all this?"

Jet rubbed his bald head, and replied, "I need a drink."

Everyone laughed, and Faye said, "If I can't have a drink, then you can't have a drink."

Jet groaned, and Spike said, "My mother had a Bloody Mary or three during her pregnancy with me."

Ed sighed, and said, "All the more reason Faye shouldn't drink. And why Papa should."

The laughter continued through the evening, and Devine and his wife, Inga, came to join them. Toasts were given, gifts were presented, and food was served. There was joking, story-telling, and off-key singing.

The future was tenuously mapped out.

And Jet Black and Faye Valentine never returned to the Bebop.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_This is NOT the end. Still more to come. You didn't think I'd leave it hanging like this, did you?_

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	14. Quaking

**Quaking**

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike and Ed took the Bebop back to Mars, leaving Jet on Venus with Faye. Spike said, and Ed concurred, that nothing would make Jet leave Faye's side at this time anyway. However, Mars was more like home to Ed and Spike, and they were comfortable docking in the usual port, near to Spike's home city. And as Spike liked to say, _all bounties end up on Mars._

His renewed vigor in hunting, however, paled when Ed announced that she had finished her thesis and she was expecting her Master's degree soon. Spike was incredulous. "Master's degree? I didn't even know you finished a Bachelor's."

Ed puffed up a little with pride. "I finished two Bachelors', actually; I double majored in Electrical Engineering and Computer Sciences, and a minor in pure Mathematics."

"Damn, woman."

"What do you think I've been doing on that computer all this time? Downloading porn?"

"Haven't you?"

"_No_."

Spike adopted his usual slouch, and jammed his hands in his pockets. "Well, Ed, that is . . . amazing. You're really something else. I'm proud of you." However, he sounded anything but. Still, Ed wasn't going to let a compliment from Spike go to waste, so she gave him a hug. It was a while before he returned the gesture in kind. "Ed, listen, I'm going to take off for a couple of hours. Okay?"

"Okay." And as Ed watched Spike mosey off the ship, she thought to herself, _Whatever it is you have, Spike, I don't think you're going to fix it in only a couple of hours._

A little while later, Spike was bemused to find himself once again on the steps of the old church where Fred watched over his mostly student parish. _I haven't spent this much time even near a church since . . . well, since I got tossed out a rose window a few years ago. _He was chuckling at the bizarre memory when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit again, I'd have brought another cuppa joe."

"I don't think coffee's going to work, Fred. How about we go get a drink somewhere?"

Fred laughed. "I stopped sneaking the sacrificial wine long ago. Now I get paid to drink the stuff. I don't think a drink is what you need, though."

"Oh? What do I need, then?"

"You're the one who came over here. You tell me."

Spike sighed. "At the risk of sounding lame, I feel like a prodigal son with no place to call home."

Fred was silent for a moment, and then replied, "You're right. That does sound lame." Both men laughed for a moment, and then Fred looked at his watch. "Okay, I usually do confessions at this time anyway. C'mon." Fred bounded up the steps to the old church and pulled the door open. Spike followed.

"Fred . . ."

"Hey, no one here. So it's just you and me." Fred dipped his fingers in the holy water and quickly crossed himself. Out of habit, Spike followed suit, and then stood still as he looked over the church. It was small and simple. There wasn't a huge ornate altar or communion rail or pulpit like the cathedral at the seminary, only plain white walls with simple crosses denoting the stations. The crucifix wasn't exactly a crucifix at all, at least, not the kind that Spike was familiar with. This one was a simple cross, but instead of what Spike always termed the "Our Lord of Perpetual Bleeding from Stem to Stern", the Christ figure, made of crackled glass, looked more like someone who was living. Or resurrected.

Fred had donned his robes and scapular and stood waiting for Spike to finish his perusal of the building. He then led Spike to a small set of booths. Inside, there was no _priex- dieu, _like Spike expectedonly a folding chair. Fred sensed Spike's hesitation. "We don't stand on ceremony here. Or _kneel, _I should say. Go on in." Spike complied, and sat in the chair with a sigh. Fred entered the booth on the other side, and slid the dividing screen open with a bang.

Silence. Fred sipped his coffee. Spike leaned his head against the wall. "I don't know how to start."

"The usual preamble is _Bless me Father, for I have sinned_."

"Fine, Fred. Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been . . . over twenty years since my last confession."

"Not since school?"

"Not since they kicked me out."

Fred paused for a moment. "Go ahead." Spike closed his eyes, looking for a simple statement that would tie everything up quickly so he could get out of here. The little room already felt cloying, even though the door was wide open and Spike could see the afternoon sun through the tall stained glass windows and reflected on the glass Christ figure.

Fred, for his part, remained silent. He took another quiet sip of his coffee and thought about the Spike he had known around the time that Spike had placed his last confession. That Spike had been quiet as well, but that was a reserved shyness that was exclusive to non-Catholics in that ultra-Catholic universe. Why a Pentecostal preacher would send his son there had been beyond Fred, but Spike had managed to quietly blend in and went through all the sacraments along with the rest of his peers. Spike had also crossed _clique _borders by not only excelling in sports, in particular Jeet Khun Do and other martial arts, but in band as well. Fred had never been an athlete.

Spike's voice brought Fred out of his _reverie._ "What am I doing here?"

"Unfortunately, Spike, you're the one that has to answer that."

"Dying was easier than this."

"I should say so. When you confess you have to scrutinize yourself. It's difficult for most people."

"I don't think you caught my sarcasm."

"No, I did catch your sarcasm, Spike. I'm well aware of the fact that you have managed to live despite your best efforts. For someone who speaks very little, you live very loudly."

"Now you sound like Bull."

"The shaman?"

Spike was flummoxed. "How do you _know_ all this stuff?"

"It doesn't matter how I know, and it doesn't matter where exactly you seek spiritual guidance, if that is what you're looking for. I think you're failing about out there in the universe, but what you don't seem to understand is that we're all flailing about, trying to figure out which way to go. It's not a problem particular to Joseph Spiegel. It happens to all of us. It's called _life_."

"That's the thing, Fred; I didn't plan on living this long."

"Who am I talking to today?"

Spike frowned. "I don't get what you mean."

"Am I talking to my old best friend or the man who became a killer for hire?"

"They're one and the same, Fred."

"No, they're not."

"Fine, Fred, if you want to go on this tangent, Vicious killed him. Satisfied?"

"Don't call him that. Vicious wasn't his name, it was an affectation that you enabled. That's why he held so much power over you. Call him by his given name."

"Gabriel? He never was Gabriel. Vicious killed him the same way that he killed the Joseph you knew."

"But _Joseph isn't dead_, as much as Spike would like to believe that. Yes, I know parts of Joseph died away, like when his father was murdered, and his mother died of grief. But Joseph was the man who fought Gabriel over the honor of a girl he didn't know, and it was Joseph who walked away from the syndicate and began creating a new life. One that includes people you honestly care about, like Jet and Faye, and even Ed, if I dare say, as opposed to 'Vicious' and Julia."

"Vicious was my best friend. And I _loved _Julia, damn it!"

"And she, along with 'Vicious' played you for a patsy every step of the way. They used you."

"That's what life is about, Father Fred. Use them before they use you. You were the one who threw life away and cloistered yourself in the prayers and the chants."

Fred took another sip of coffee. "Then how is it that you're so unsure of whether you're living or dead?"

Spike sighed and put his head in his hands. "Jesus Christ."

"And don't you blaspheme in my church."

"A church isn't the building; it's the people who are in it."

"_Touché. _You do remember some of Father Bill's rhetoric. And right now the church consists of the two of us, or, most importantly, you. I'm just a channel here. Do you know what I hear in your voice?"

"Tell me."

"I hear anguish, Spike. You're wrestling with what your past was and what you think your future should be. What that tells me is that you're very much alive. The door of your past, that includes Gabriel and Julia, is closed. But God has a window open for you. Why are you always looking at the door?"

"Because I killed them both."

"Are you confessing to that?"

Spike sat back up and leaned his head against the side wall of the booth again. "I confess . . . that I killed Gabriel and Julia."

"Did you actually, physically, kill Julia?"

Spike closed his eyes. "No. But it was my fault that it happened."

"It was her choice to be there. You can't carry that burden. You did not pull the trigger. At any rate, it's time to let the dead bury the dead. Climb out the open window, and start living."

"Easy for you to say."

"You have a perfect opportunity. Actually, you have several."

"How's that?"

"Faye's baby is due soon."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Jet and Faye and baby makes three."

"And if I'm not mistaken, Ed is nuts about you."

"She is."

"And how do you feel about her?" Silence. "Why is so hard for you to admit how you feel about her?"

"Ask Julia."

"Julia did not die because she loved you. She died because she didn't make the choices that Joseph did."

"Ed almost died once already because of me."

"_It's not all about you!_" Fred sighed, and rubbed his face. "You know what? This is going to be the first time I've stopped a confession. Ever. Because I can't continue like this. You're the one who came here, but I can't reach you." Spike remained silent. Fred continued, "Remember praying the rosary in school?"

Spike blinked. "Yeah."

"What did you think about while praying the rosary?"

"Not much, other than repetitive it was. It seemed so pointless."

"What would you say if I told you that the repetition was the point? You were supposed to lose yourself in the rhythm of the prayers, to release your thoughts and make your heart more accepting."

"I really hope you're not going to ask me to pray the rosary right now."

"No. What I want you to do is pray the Penitential Rite."

"Which one was that again?"

"It begins, _I confess, to Almighty God . . _. Okay? Once you do that, then pray for the needs of others. I need to go clear my head before afternoon Mass starts." And with that, Fred swept out of the chapel, leaving Spike sitting alone in the confessional. _Good one_, thought Spike, as he stood back up, knees cracking. _Add pissing off another member of the religious to your list of faults. Why **did** I come here, anyway? _Spike looked around, but the dust motes weren't answering. He felt around in his pockets, looking for cigarettes. He couldn't find any. Closing his eyes in frustration, he thought to himself, _great. No smokes. Admonitions to pray. Jesus._

Spike opened his eyes and they fell on the serene face of the glass Christ. _Fine_, he thought. _You want prayers? I'll pray._

Spike moved into a pew near the back and reached down for a kneeler. _No kneelers? Fine. The floor it is. _"I confess, to Almighty God . . ." _How does this thing go again?_ _This is just pointless_, he thought, as he shifted his weight on his knees. A fold of his trouser leg caught under his knee sent a little pain clear up to his hip. _Oh, no, wait! That's the point, isn't it, Almighty God? Pain and suffering. _"I confess, to Almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters . . ." - _or to no one at all -_ ". . . that I have sinned through my own fault. . ." _Tell me about it._ ". . . in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and what I have failed to do." Spike paused for a moment, and sighed. "And I ask Blessed Mary, ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God."

Spike was still for a moment. The chapel reverberated with silence. _Got nothing to say, huh, God? Okay then. Get ready for prayers for others._

This was almost easy to start. He began by saying a prayer for Faye and the baby, that Faye may experience an easy birth, and that the baby be healthy and whole.

Spike began a prayer for Jet, but his mind wandered. The truth was, he was angry with Jet, because Jet had essentially stated that he was leaving bounty hunting. There was a discussion to be had at a later date regarding the actual ship, because Jet was making noise about selling it, almost as glibly as Faye saying that the Redtail could be sold. Ed, true to her nature, took the whole thing in stride. But not Spike.

_Well, she's got no worries. She's got the smarts, and now the degrees, to take her anywhere. And what do you have, Spike, other than an itchy trigger finger and a sporadic education?_

Then it finally struck him. What he didn't have, the greatest thing he had 'failed to do', was to create a future, a future that was specifically for him. In the syndicate, there was no thought of a future. In fact, there was no need. Either you died in the syndicate or the syndicate took care of you, one way or another. By leaving, he had made a half-hearted gesture at making his own way and then kept performing his past behaviors. No wonder he assumed that his relationship with Ed would have the same conclusion of his relationship with Julia.

_It's not all about you,_ Fred had snapped at him. Which was correct: the scenario between Ed and Winfield had nothing to do with him, beyond the circumstance of time and place. Jet's future was his to map out, and if that future was with Faye and the baby, then who was he to stop that? _Jet, I'm sorry,_ he thought. _I was so wrapped up in myself that I tried to drag you down with me. _

And where he thought he had been the tough one, Faye faced death and life in the face all at the same time,_ and she prevailed with a grace that I envy. And I envy you, Jet, because you will be getting a life. And Ed, I envy you most of all, because you can go anywhere, be anything, whatever you choose, and not only that, you make bold and fearless choices. I thought I made bold choices too, but every single choice was made in fear._

Spike rested his head on his folded arms on the back of the pew in front of him._ What have I failed to do?_ _The real question is **what haven't I failed to do**?_

Spike began to pray, in earnest this time.

He prayed for Jet and Faye, for their happiness, for their joy, and he prayed for their forgiveness for his pettiness and jealousy.

He prayed for his mother, who had died too young and in far too much sorrow, and he prayed for her forgiveness in causing a good part of that sorrow.

He prayed for his father, who had also died far too young and alone and in pain, and he prayed for his forgiveness for not living up to be what a preacher should be able to expect from his son, for championing the very causes that his father condemned.

He prayed for Julia, because he had loved her. He prayed for the Gabriel he knew and the Vicious he became, he prayed for Mao, Lin, Annie, Gren, for all of them.

Except Ed. He couldn't pray for Ed, and he couldn't understand why. Ed was the symbol of where his life could lead, as if by accepting her into his life, he would then be acknowledging that he actually had a future.

_You're not making sense anymore, Spiegel, _Spike thought, head still on his crossed arms. He rocked the knee with the fabric caught underneath again. The pain shot up his leg once more. _Ed. Ed, Ed, Ed. Am I allowed to have her in my life? Why should she choose to put me in hers? Christ, how am I supposed to figure this out?_

Just then, Spike felt a cool hand on the back of his neck. He lifted his head to see Ed, leaning down towards him, a small smile on her face. It may have been a trick of the light or of his own confused mind, but it seemed to Spike that she was back lit by one of the stained-glass windows, and a corona gleamed around her. She sat primly and looked around her. "Pretty church," she whispered.

"Yes, it is," Spike whispered back. His mind came back into focus, and he realized that the church was filling with people, and a small choir and guitarist had begun tuning up. Spike rubbed his face and then sat back into the pew. Ed handed him a song sheet. Spike looked it over, thinking that some of the lyrics looked familiar.

The guitarist called the congregation to attention and asked everyone to stand and greet those around them. Spike did his perfunctory handshakes, and Ed was greeted by former teammates from her volleyball team. Ed gave Spike a one-armed squeeze around the waist and smiled at him, and then turned her attention to her song sheet. The choir began, and Ed lifted her voice in song.

_Open my eyes, Lord, help me to see Your face. Open my eyes, Lord, help me to see. . . _

Spike was surprised by the light second-soprano tones of Ed's voice. He had never heard her sing beyond her silly and surreal adolescent chanting. She gave him a quick wink and continued singing, so Spike joined her with his barroom tenor:

_Open my ears, Lord, help me to hear Your voice. Open my ears, Lord, help me to hear._

_Open my heart, Lord, help me to love like You. Open my heart, Lord, help me to love._

Father Fred began the Mass, and once the Sign of the Cross was complete, Spike reached for Ed's hand, and then lost himself in the familiar routine of the Mass. But instead of his mind wandering completely away, as he did in his younger days, he fell into the rhythm of the prayers, opening his heart, possibly for the first time ever.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Open My Eyes, Lord** – hymn by Jessie Manibusan_

_Still more to come. I know this is supposed to be a Faye/Jet story … but this chapter wouldn't leave me alone._

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	15. Partum

**Partum**

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Jet's eye began twitching in his sleep. He rubbed his nose, sniffed, and rolled over. Something was missing. There was a cool spot on the mattress where a warm body usually was. Jet's conscious continued to float through the ether, barely registering that this wasn't too unusual. Faye had terrible trouble sleeping lately and tended to get up several times a night. But tonight, there was a different aura in the room. The spot on the mattress usually taken up by her bulk was cooler than usual. And where Faye usually just paced around the suite in silence, this time she seemed to be making more noise. A lot more noise.

Jet reached over towards the lamp and clicked it on. The bedside clock said 4:17 a.m. Grunting, Jet rolled out of the bed and got to his feet. He walked stiffly out to the front room of the suite, where he saw Faye muttering to herself as she waddled around the room, washcloth in hand, dusting everything in sight.

_Dusting?_ "Faye?" Jet rubbed his nose again. "Faye, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, as she ran her finger along the top of a framed picture.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm _nesting_."

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Care to translate that for me?"

Faye's fingers wrapped so tight around the cloth that her knuckles turned white. She turned to Jet with tears in her eyes, and she wailed, "I'm trying to _clean_, I want the place to be _clean_!" She slapped her leg with the cloth. "It _needs _to be clean, but _I'm_ supposed to clean, but the – the. . ." The tears spilled over. "The maids keep coming in here and cleaning everything." Faye put one hand on the wall next to her, supporting herself, and she hung her head and sniffed.

Jet blinked. "Do you want me to mess the place up for you?" But Faye didn't answer. She stood still and began breathing hoarsely. "Because I'll go find a vacuum cleaner and empty the bag over the whole place if that'll help." Faye lifted her head a bit, and her face was set in a grimace. Then she began to breathe again. "Faye? Was that a _contraction_?"

Faye looked at Jet, her face red. "Yeah."

"Just how long have you been in labor?"

"For a couple of hours."

Jet's eyes boggled. "And you were planning on waking me up when? When the kid's swinging on the umbilical cord between your legs?" Faye snorted at him, and Jet came over and put a supporting arm around her bulging waist. "Christ, Faye, why do you have this habit of never telling me anything?"

"I wanted to let you sleep while you could. Besides, the contractions are still very far . . . _eeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhh. . ._" Faye dropped into a half-crouch, squeezing Jet's hand hard. She took a breath. "Okay, they _used _to be pretty far apart."

"I better call your doctor."

"I already did. He said there wasn't a hurry until the contractions got much closer together."

"Humor me, Faye. Let's get moving. Put some slippers on or something."

"I can't see my feet. You put them on."

Jet laughed; he couldn't help it. But he dressed quickly and bundled Faye into a robe and slippers and escorted her out to the taxi queue. He thought that Faye was being unusually intrepid, but he was also smart enough to make her squeeze his cybernetic hand instead of his flesh and blood one. Once the taxi was moving, he called Spike and Ed on the comm., and Ed's bright face popped up on the screen.

"Hello soon-to-be-again-Papa Jet!"

"You're up early. Listen, Faye's . . ."

"In labor! Push-push-push Faye-Faye! We're already on our way!"

"Why am I always the last to know?" Jet grumbled at no one in particular.

"Because Papa-Jet's grumpy all the time."

"Let me talk to Spike."

"Spi-spi's sleeping."

"_You're flying the Bebop_? I never taught you how to fly that ship!"

"Papa never taught Spike, either, and, given the choice, wouldn't Papa rather Ed fly this space-bucket? Faye-faye needs you, we'll see you soon." Ed clicked off the comm.

Jet looked over at Faye, who was giggling in between breaths. "What's so funny?"

"I read . . .that children revert backwards in their behavior. . . when a new baby . . . is brought in to the family. . . Ed's talking . . . like she's thirteen . . . again."

Jet smiled. "Maybe's she's as excited as I am."

Faye returned the smile, but wanly. "Spike doesn't . . . seem excited."

"Spike can sleep through Armaggedon, so I wouldn't take it personally." Faye grunted. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Wouldn't it . . . hurt you to pull the. . . Hammerhead . . . out your nostril?"

"Point taken," replied Jet, as he squeezed her hand.

Jet and Faye made it to the hospital without incident, which made the cabbie grateful. Faye was instantly whisked away to be prepped while Jet filled out form after form. By the time he caught up with her again, she was in a hospital bed, looking a little ragged. She looked at Jet and said, "I need a drink."

Jet chuckled. "You can have ice chips, apparently."

"Are they made out of vodka?"

"Sorry, but no."

Faye groaned. "I hate you."

"Yeah, and I suspect you'll hate me a lot more soon. Didn't they give you anything?"

Faye scoffed. "I've had stronger scotch." Then she suddenly rolled out the bed and said, "Walk with me."

"Why?"

"It'll bring it on faster."

"You're the boss." And Jet put Faye on his arm, escorting her around the nurse's desk, playing the waiting game.

Spike was stretched out on the couch, hand over his eyes, when he felt the distinct jostle of the Bebop coming to an abrupt stop, which startled him out of his dream of Esperanto-speaking, mud-wrestling stewardesses. He frowned, then yelled, "Ed?"

He heard Ed yell back. "Sorry!"

"What did you do?"

"Um . . . We just landed."

Spike rose and grumbled his way to the cockpit. Ed was frantically working the controls. "Landed _how, _Ed?"

"You try parallel parking this boat!" Ed snapped as she thumped the control panel. Spike reached over and pressed a single control, which stopped the rocking of the Bebop. Ed blew her hair out of her eyes. "Thanks. We should get a more controllable ship."

Spike smirked. "_We_?"

Ed blushed from stem to stern. "Well . . . I meant – Papa should maybe upgrade."

Spike ruffled Ed's hair. "I think between Faye and the baby, he already did."

Ed was silent for a moment, and then said, "That was really cheesy." Spike laughed, helped Ed button up the ship, and then they both proceeded to the hospital.

Jet had no experience with babies and their delivery schedules, but it seemed to him that Faye was moving through the process extremely quickly. He'd heard horror stories about women in labor for twenty-four, thirty-six, seventy-two hours, but the doctor had arrived and let them know that the baby would be crowning very shortly.

On the other hand, this whole process couldn't end quickly enough for Faye. She had vague memories that the women of her family were intrepid and quick birthers, and she flashed on an old story of a great-aunt who delivered in the vineyard during harvest and went back to picking after washing down the infant with freshly stomped chardonnay grapes. Fortunately, the drugs she had been given took a significant edge off the pain. And they kept walking, around and around the nurses' station while Faye had flashbacks of walking similar strolls on Spike's arm.

And then a terrible contraction ripped through her abdomen as her water broke. Jet yelped, and Faye chuckled tiredly and muttered, "Clean-up on aisle five." Nurses and orderlies appeared out of nowhere and whisked Faye away again to prep her for the delivery, hooking her up to a fetal heartbeat monitor, and settling her into stirrups. Then the doctor appeared, in scrubs from head to toe, saying, "Okay, Faye, let's jam!" Faye's response was to verbally abuse everyone with ears in the tri-city area. The doctor grinned at Jet over his mask and said, "Yep, she's gonna do just fine."

Jet thought so too, as Faye went through the textbook litany of this stage of labor: she went from abusive and frustrated to weepily begging for a tuna sandwich to having no clue what time it was; she shook, hiccupped, and vomited – this time, Jet called for the clean-up on aisle five – and then Faye hyperventilated, moaned, cried, and screamed, nearly all at the same time. If Jet hadn't been so completely overwhelmed, he would have been laughing.

Finally, it was time to push. Faye pushed with every contraction until her hair was soaking with sweat and her face was purple. She could feel the infant bearing down, and nearly her entire focus was on squeezing that darn kid out, until she heard the dreaded word "episiotomy". Suddenly, she screamed, "You get anywhere near me with that knife and I'll episiotomy you into the next damned century!"

The doctor sighed. "Faye . . ."

"I will rip off your goddamned baby-making trouser-rat and shove it up your ass like a goddamned roman candle!"

There was silence in the room for a moment, punctuated only by Faye's hoarse breathing. Jet finally said, quietly, "Please do as she says, because I'm afraid that I'm next."

The doctor's eyes met Jet's. "Okay, then. Give it a push, Faye." Faye grunted again, and she pushed with every muscle in her body. "Good one, Faye! We've got a head with two of all the right things and a mess of black hair! Let's do that again!" Faye took a deep breath and pushed with all her might, grinding her teeth and nearly denting Jet's cybernetic hand. And she felt the sweet relief of the baby's body leaving hers. Faye took another breath, and started saying, "Is the baby okay? Why isn't it crying? What's wrong?"

Jet couldn't see anything that was going on down there. All he heard was some murmuring between the doctor and the nurses. Panic set in. "Doctor? What's happening?"

"Hold on," replied the doctor. Faye and Jet exchanged glances, and Faye's face was falling into despair. Then there was suddenly a chuffling noise from the doctor's hands. "There you go. That's what I wanted to hear." There was a whimper, and an earnest cry. The doctor grinned at Jet and Faye over his mask and said the three most glorious words that Faye had ever heard.

"It's a boy."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_**It's a boy!**_

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	16. Trinity

**Trinity**

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike and Ed had gotten bored with the tension in the waiting room, and they asked the tired-looking nurse at the desk to let Jet know that they'd be outside, should Jet come looking for them. The nurse nodded and yawned.

It was a beautiful clear morning. The sun was still rising and had turned the clouds a most delicate shade of pink. Spike shook a cigarette out of a pack, muttering, "Red at morning."

"Sailors take warning," replied Ed, frowning at the cigarette in Spike's fingers. Spike sighed and popped the smoke back into the pack. "So when are you going to stop smoking, Spike?"

"I thought the point of a relationship is to accept the other person as he or she is."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "And I thought the point of a relationship was to put the desires of another person's before your own."

"I thought that was codependency."

"Stop watching the damned daytime TV, Spike."

"If you make me quit smoking, I will turn into the foulest human imaginable."

Ed scoffed and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, please. You are _such _an amateur."

Spike grinned. "And what is that supposed to mean?" Ed didn't answer; she only smirked back at Spike. "Ed? Answer me." But Ed didn't answer, which prompted Spike to make a grab for her. Ed shrieked. "Huh? Ed-ed thinks she can be all vague and metaphoric because she's got a couple of Bull Shit degrees and a More Shit degree?" By this time, Spike was relentlessly tickling Ed as she squealed and begged him to stop. "Why not go the full nine and get one of those Piled Higher and Deepers, eh?

Ed was nearly breathless and struggling to escape Spike. "Spi-spi . . . . Let Ed go!"

A new voice broke through. "Anyone would think you guys were the children."

Spike turned to the voice, and Ed took this opportunity to give Spike a massive pinch on the underside of his upper arm. Spike yelped, and Ed leapt out of Spike's clutches and into the arms of Jet, who looked like he'd been dragged down a gravel road. "Papa! Is everything okay?"

Jet hugged Ed tight. "Everything's okay, Ed."

"Well?" Spike asked, rubbing his tricep. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy," replied Jet with a tired grin. "Twenty inches long, seven pounds, eight ounces, and everything he's supposed to have and none of what he shouldn't." He took a breath. "Faye's exhausted, sore, pissed off."

Spike grinned. "In other words, right as rain."

Ed squeezed Jet even tighter. "Congratulations, Papa."

"I agree. Congratulations, Papa." And Spike joined into the embrace briefly.

The three of them stayed close and still for a moment, and then Jet said, "Well, I have a little something for us to celebrate with, but we need your permission, Ed." Jet produced three cigars from his pocket.

Ed laughed. "Light 'em up!" The men joined in the laughter, and the three cigars were smoked with celebratory cheer.

And oddly enough, only Ed could blow a proper smoke ring.

Faye was exhausted, as well as sore, but _pissed off_ she definitely was not. She was lying on her side, gazing at the infant beside her, who could barely open his eyes. Her hands traveled over every inch of his amazing body. She reached down to kiss his head, burying her nose in his soft black hair. This baby smelled better than anything else she had ever known. Better than vanilla, better than expensive perfume, better than frying bacon. The baby's hand curled around her finger, and Faye had to stifle a sob. She kissed the baby's fist, and wiped the tear from her eye.

And Faye could not stop smiling.

There was a soft tap on the door, and Jet, looking decidedly rumpled, poked his head in. "Faye?"

"C'mon in," Faye murmured, keeping her eyes on the baby.

"You have company."

Faye did look up at that, and smiled hugely at Spike and Ed as they shyly came into the room. "Hi, guys. Come over and take a look."

Ed was the first to come over, and she squatted by the bed to coo at the tiny baby. Spike carefully touched the baby's head, running his fingers through the baby's hair. "There is nothing as soft as baby hair," Spike remarked, which warmed Faye's heart, for some reason. Then Spike leaned over, kissed Faye on the head, and squeezed her with one arm. "You did good, Romani."

Faye squeezed him back. "Thanks, Gorgio."

Spike stepped back, but held a bag out to Faye. "Trade you? Is it okay if someone holds the nipper for you?" Faye nodded, and took the bag from Spike as he carefully lifted the infant into his arms as if he'd been doing it forever. Spike gently walked with the baby, lightly bouncing him. Faye opened the bag, and pulled out a big soft bundle of deep turquoise yarn. As she separated out the little bundles, she realized that she was holding a pair of incredibly tiny booties, a little hat, and a blanket with a beautiful and complicated-looking knit pattern. Spike then said, "We chose the turquoise because we didn't know if it was going to be a boy or a girl, and we thought it would work for either."

Faye was turning over the blanket in her hands, and then it finally struck her. The Lunkhead had knitted all this himself. So long ago, on a drunken night, he'd said that he knew how to knit. She hadn't believed him, any more than she believed that he was the son of a preacher or a former seminarian. But some tears spilled over, which she wiped away with a corner of the blanket. "These are absolutely beautiful, Spike. Thank you so much."

Jet was trying to fill out more paperwork, and he was grumbling. Finally, he turned to Faye and asked, "What is your middle name?"

Faye rolled her eyes. "Hand the thing over and I'll fill it out."

Jet glanced at her and said, "No, it's okay, I have it under control. Just tell me what your middle name is."

Faye's eyes narrowed and she snapped, "I'm not saying. Give me the damn certificate and I'll fill it out."

Spike handed the baby to Ed, and said, "It's Rosamund. Here, hand that blanket over. The kid's getting all antsy." Jet chuckled, and added the name to the certificate as Ed laid the child on the new blanket, and Spike popped on the booties and hat with a practiced ease. Spike stole a glance at Faye, who was staring at him, and said, "I told you I'd babysat."

"You also said you lost your virginity to the kid's mom."

Spike actually blushed a bit. "Yeah, well . . . This is how you swaddle. Over, over, up, over, over, up." He then presented the baby to Faye.

"Won't he be all upset, being so confined?"

Spike shrugged. "Just the opposite, really. Newborns get freaked out when they have too much room. Swaddling comforts them."

Faye smiled at Spike. "There is no limit to what you know, is there?"

Jet broke in again. "What's his name, Faye?"

Ed was incredulous. "You haven't decided that?"

Faye rocked the baby, a beatific smile on her face. "We wanted to wait until he got here. But I've been thinking about Joseph. Joseph Edward Black, I think."

Jet stared at Faye, and asked, "You'd give him my name?"

Faye turned that smile to Jet, and replied, "He's yours, isn't he?" And Jet's heart melted. Spike's heart melted a little too, and he stood behind Ed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. Faye looked at the two and said, "You guys have a namesake now. I suppose you two will have to be the godparents too."

Spike sighed. "Cripes. Now we have to live as a good example. Thanks a lot." But he was smiling. Jet laid down his pen and yawned. Spike took the opportunity to snatch the clipboard away, saying, "Your spelling goes straight to hell when you're this tired, old man. I'd better proofread." And then Ed's and Spike's eyes goggled at the paper. Spike wrinkled his nose and said, "Who the _hell_ is _Abraham Sebastian_?"

Jet lurched out of his chair. "Give that back."

Spike held the clipboard out of reach. "_Abraham Sebastian_?"

Jet snarled, "Give it back, goddamnit!"

Ed snorted. "And you all make fun of _my_ name." Everyone paused and stared at Ed for a moment, and then began to laugh.

Just then, Devine and his wife, Inga, burst in, creating a lot of commotion and bringing a huge bouquet. Inga demanded to hold the baby, which Faye gave up reluctantly. Devine still had a cigar in his mouth, thankfully unlit, and he handed around more cigars that were of much higher quality than the ones Jet had passed around.

After a time, Devine, who was never one to mix words, got to business. "So, Black, Valentine. Got a proposition for you."

Joseph started squalling, and Spike deftly took the baby from Inga's arms. Joseph quieted immediately. Faye turned her gaze back to Devine, and asked, "What kind of proposition?"

Devine pointed at Faye, "You, you be floor manager, being a hostess and the like to big rollers. Keep them entertained; get them to spend big money in the Citadel. Then you stay on and be the in-house commentator on the big gambling events. Even toss you in there from time to time." Devine then pointed to Jet. "And you, you take over security. Liked your record from the ISSP. Good man. Whip those nancy boys I got into shape. Good solid money. Good solid place to bring up the kid. Whaddya say?"

Jet and Faye were goggling at the large man. Jet opened his mouth to say something, but Faye broke in, "We need to think about it."

Devine nodded. "Fine then. C'mon, Inga, let's blow. I haven't had a drag on this goddamned cheroot for nigh on an hour. Goddamned hospitals. You think about it, you two. We'd like you guys to stick around, but no hard feelings if you don't. Okay?" And then Devine and Inga left.

Jet whistled softly. "Carries one big-ass stick, doesn't he?"

Faye wasn't listening. She was gazing across the room at Spike and Ed, who'd politely moved to the other side of the room, and they were both focused on the baby. God, how she'd missed them both, so, so much. And she'd missed Jet so terribly while she was on Venus, yet, when he was there with her, she still felt lost and alone. Looking at Jet, Faye wondered how the both of them would deal with living in one spot in a house with its roots of concrete and steel driven far into the ground, everything so much bigger than it needed to be and so solidly fixed, captured, trapped, unable to move.

Faye closed her eyes. She was still a _Romani_, but she figured Jet was as inclined to being a nomad as she was. Faye opened her eyes to see Spike rocking Joseph and Ed peering intently at the baby. She could hear Spike saying softly, "Hi there, Spike Jr. We're going to be pals, I think. If your mother lets me be a bad influence in your life." Ed was chuckling, and she squeezed Spike around his waist. Spike smiled back at Ed.

And Faye could no longer imagine her life without those people across the room. Faye squeezed Jet's hand. "There's no place like home."

Jet perched on the edge of her bed. "That's true, but where is that?"

Faye smiled up at Jet with tears in her eyes. "Home is where all five of us are. Faye, Abraham, Joseph, Edward, and Joseph Edward."

Jet chuckled and smiled back at her. "You actually mean the Bebop?"

"Yes," replied Faye.

"I'll go where you and Joseph Edward go, but I thought you never wanted to go back there."

"I was wrong." _Three little words_. "Let's go home."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_Almost the end._

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


	17. Epilogue: Baptism Vows

**Epilogue: Baptism/Vows**

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Four weeks had gone by. The Bebop slowly transformed into a new kind of home. The Bebop's crew transformed into a different kind of family. And the transformation was completely driven by its newest, and smallest, member.

Joseph, or Joey, or Joe, as he was called at various times by various people, had changed everyone on the ship, irrevocably. Faye was Little Mama and Jet was Papa, although Spike had a habit of calling him Father Abraham, which would usually earn him a punch in the arm. Spike, of course, was now Uncle Spike, and Ed was Auntie Eddie. Faye also tended to call Spike her _doula_, which made Spike grumble that he should at least be called the _doulo_, or whatever the masculine form of the Greek term was. When he was informed that no such term for a man existed, and he should go back to knitting more booties, Spike rolled his eyes.

The ship was crowded and noisy, completely cluttered, and rarely quiet.

In other words, hardly any different.

Today, however, the entire group was crammed into a small pew in a tiny church. Devine and Inga, sad that Faye and Jet had not taken them up on their offer, were in attendance in the pew behind them. Spike was wearing the suit that Julia had bought for him; Ed was wearing a new dress of scintillating emerald green. Jet, wearing his good light beige suit, held Joseph in his lap. Faye, lovely in a deep teal dress, was beside him, fluffing Joseph's baptismal gown, a light cotton dress trimmed with knit lace, painstakingly knit by Spike.

Jet leaned over to whisper to Faye. "Are you sure this thing he's wearing isn't too girlish?"

Faye sighed. "It's a baptismal gown, it's okay, I promise."

Suddenly, Father Fred appeared at her elbow. "Ready to start this show?"

"Yes, and hopefully the kid'll stay asleep."

Fred grinned. "Until we dunk him in the cold water. I put extra ice in." Spike laughed, and Fred moved away before Jet and Faye could confirm that Fred was serious. Then the pianist and the guitarist began, and everybody rose to begin the Mass. Fred made his way to the altar, and once the entrance hymn was ended, beckoned the four adults in the front pew to come forward. Faye introduced each of them in turn, and finally, Joseph Edward.

Fred asked, "What do you ask of this congregation for Joseph Edward?"

Faye replied, "Baptism."

Fred grinned, and said, "Okay then. I claim this child for Christ with a cross on his forehead and I ask the parents and godparents to do the same." After they had complied, Fred said, "Now gimme the kid so I can parade him around during the _Gloria_, so the congregation can cross him too!" Everyone laughed, and Fred took Joseph and paraded him up and down the center aisle as the congregation sang the _Gloria_, allowing nearly everyone to place the sign of the cross on the baby.

Then it was time to sit for the readings and the psalm, and then to stand for the gospel. Ed stood next to Spike, their hands clasped, wondering about how Spike could so easily fall back into the routine of the Mass without skipping a beat. Every prayer, every response, every gesture with his hands seemed to be as second nature to him as the combat moves he used to bring down a bounty. And oh, how Ed loved to hear him sing, just as much as she loved to watch him knit. Someday, perhaps, Spike would play the clarinet for her.

Spike continued to hold Ed's hand, only letting go when necessary, as dictated by the Mass. When they sat for the homily, Spike pulled her hand into his lap, clasping it in both of his, stroking her thumb, thinking about how good it felt to be sitting there with Ed at that moment, listening to the words of an old friend.

Jet, frankly, wasn't too sure what to think about all of this, mostly because of his long-ago Protestant upbringing, but it was what Faye wanted. This was fine, as far as he was concerned. Faye, meanwhile, also found the same comfort in the Mass that Spike had found. She hoped that her parents were with her in spirit. She prayed for their approval and to watch over this little boy of hers. _And Jet's_, she amended. _Never will I able to call him Abraham_, she thought with a smile.

Fred, binder in hand, was once again beckoning the Bebop family to come forward and stand on the altar. They all complied, and Fred began flipping through the binder. He began, "We are all gathered here . . . oh, no, wait. Wrong page. I almost married all of you."

The congregation laughed, but Spike shrugged and spun Ed into a deep dip, kissing her, making the congregation laugh even louder. Spike broke off the kiss, looking into Ed's wide eyes. Chuckling, he whispered, "Doesn't sound like a bad idea, does it?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he spun her back to a standing position, leaving Ed wide-eyed, blushing, and trembling.

Fred coughed and said, "This is supposed to be a baptism, and not about you two godparents over there! Pay attention. Now, we invite the whole congregation to renew their baptismal vows . . ." Fred continued with the prayers, blessed the water in the crystal bowl and asked once again, "Now, is it your wish that Joseph Edward be baptized into this church?" Faye and Jet responded that they did. Fred then instructed Faye to hold Joseph over the font, face up. Jet held onto the baby's hand. Fred took a half-shell, and said, "Joseph Edward, I baptize you in the name of the Father . . ." Fred poured a little water over the boy's head. . . "And of the Son . . ." A little more water . . . "And of the Holy Spirit." A little more water. Joseph remained quiet and wide-eyed, waving his fists. "And the congregation says . . ."

"AMEN!" was the loud reply.

Spike squeezed Ed's hand.

Fred then took the small glass bowl filled with chrism. He then proceeded to anoint Joseph with the blessed oil in the name of Christ, "who was Priest, Prophet, and King." However, instead of just putting a little oil on the baby's head, Fred got a good handful in there, and with the congregation laughing again, fashioned Joseph's hair into a Mohawk. "And the congregation says . . ."

"AMEN!"

Fred wiped his hands on a nearby towel, and turned to the congregation and said, "Let's welcome the newest member of our community!" And everyone burst into loud applause, especially Ed and Spike.

When Spike took Ed's hand again, she felt like he'd put something in her hand. As they sat again in the pew for the Offertory hymn, she released Spike's hand and opened her fist to find a ring in her palm . . . A gold ring, with a modest diamond surrounded by four smaller diamond chips. Ed's hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the ring. Spike, already singing, caught her eye and winked. Ed gave a tiny nod, and Spike broke into a smile, his heart swelling to capacity, finally, finally, knowing that he was, in fact, alive and awake inside. Still singing, he took her left hand and placed the ring on her finger. Tears spilled over onto Ed's cheeks. Spike gave her a prim kiss on the forehead, and then gave her his handkerchief.

The Mass continued, through the Eucharistic prayers and the Our Father. When Fred asked the congregation to offer each other the Sign of Peace, Ed leapt into Spike's arms, wrapping her hands tightly around his back. Faye was the first one to see the glint off the ring on Ed's hand. Faye elbowed Jet and silently pointed it out. Jet clapped Spike on the back, and Faye grabbed both Spike and Ed in a hug, whispering, "How dare you be such a showoff, Gorgio! During my son's baptism, no less!"

Spike shrugged. "Seemed like a good as time as any. Prophetic, even, with Fred starting the wrong Sacrament like he did."

Just before the end of the Mass, Fred instructed Ed and Spike to come forward and light the baptismal candle off the Easter candle, which they did. Fred instructed them to keep this flame burning brightly for Joseph as a symbol of Baptismal vows they had all taken that day. Then the Recessional hymn began, and Fred took Joseph once again, and Ed and Spike led the recession, holding the candle together, followed by Fred with the baby and Faye and Jet, also hand in hand. They then burst through the door of the church into the bright sunlight of their future, punctuated by each of the two couples telling the other the three biggest little words of all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

_The end . . . of this chapter of the story!_

_This is a work of fiction, and the CB characters are copywrited by someone other than me. Please leave a review!_


End file.
